


Baby, Please Come Home for Christmas

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Merry Christmas, Baby [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Triple Agent Rumlow, sorta fake dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21600364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Things are pretty casual between her and Brock--and Darcy's fine with that. So, she's mildly disappointed when her sometime-hookup wants to have The Talk.Only it's a completely different talk than she anticipated: he needs her to come home with him for the holidays.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Merry Christmas, Baby [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1225412
Comments: 469
Kudos: 943





	1. Did You Need A Kidney for Christmas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Hey,” Rumlow said, appearing at her shoulder while she was responding to Jane’s emails. “Can I talk to you...alone?” He’d pitched his voice low.

“Okay,” Darcy said, assuming that he wanted to fool around in Jane’s supply closet. They hadn’t done that in a while. “Supply run?” she suggested. An oblivious Jane was working on her whiteboard and probably hadn’t noticed. Rumlow nodded. She saw his neck was tense. That was unusual. They’d been hooking up for a few weeks, but he was typically calm. So calm and collected that it could be irritating. Darcy constantly felt like she was the one who was very into him, while he held her at arm’s length. Like a toy he picked up to play with when it occurred to him. But it was fun when he was paying attention to her. Really fun. Darcy stood up and followed him deeper into the lab. “Getting, uh, some paper, Jane,” Darcy said. “Brock’s carrying it for me, because it’s heavy,” she said casually.

“Mmm-hmm,” Jane said, marker hanging out of her mouth. There was a smudge of blue on her nose. Brock glanced back at them as he opened the door. 

“Why do you pretend like that?” he said, as Darcy went in ahead of him. She turned on the light and he pulled the door shut. They had a closet for various supplies at SHIELD that was huge, compared to the places she and Jane had worked before. It was the size of a small convenience store. Her current machinery was stacked on shelves, alongside Darcy’s extensive stash of work snacks and coffee.

“Social...politeness reasons?” Darcy said. “Also, it’s fun to see how long it takes Jane to register what we really do with the field observation sleeping bags?” She grinned and was surprised when he didn’t grin back. She was confused; normally, he’d had have practically lept on her by now and be dragging her towards the field cots along the back wall. But Rumlow was just standing there, arms crossed, face pensive. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. He rubbed his jaw. “This is, uh, difficult--” he said, grimacing. His eyes trailed around the room, not looking at her.

“Oh,” Darcy said, realizing this was his  _ ‘I’m dumping you speech.’  _ Not that they were together. Not  _ together _ together. It was very casual. Her first attempt at very casual after years of on and off with Ian. She’d been enjoying very casual, she realized, with a pang of unexpected sadness. He didn’t want her to go hiking with him or evangelize about tofu or make her listen to brosocialist podcasts. Nope. He paid for her favorite pizza, was funny when he bothered to talk (he was fairly cryptic), and screwed her brains out. They were like friends, only she got to see him naked. And he looked really, really great naked. Like an underwear model. She was going to miss that. “It’s okay, really,” Darcy said, “if you’ve changed your mind about us seeing each other--”

“Huh?” he said. “No.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, more baffled than before. She guessed. “Are we in trouble with HR?”

“No,” he said. “That’s fine.”

“Okay.” She waited for him to say something. She was out of guesses, really. She looked around while he avoided meeting her eyes. “Did you want a snack? I’ve got white cheddar popcorn?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “no thank you.” 

“Okay, what is going on, Brock?” It still felt funny to say his first name. Everyone at work called him Rumlow or by his full rank, but he’d asked her to call him Brock one night. Teased her about being too shy to say his name when they’d been fucking like rabbits. “You’re kinda freaking me out?” Darcy added.

“I need a favor,” he said, words spilling out. He looked like he wanted to take it back.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “I’ll help.” She couldn’t stand awkward silences. 

“Yeah,” he said.

“Do you need a kidney or something?” she wondered. “Bone marrow?”

“No,” he said, a flash of amusement crossing his face. Then his face fell. “Worse. I wish it was just a damn kidney. I need you to come home with me for Christmas,” he said, sighing heavily. “Church, family dinner, the whole bullshit routine.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“I thought I could get out of going home by telling her we were seeing each other,” he said, looking irritated. “But Ma outfoxed me, goddammit. Wants to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kitchen is too small for multiple people at the holidays, so I got to write instead! :)


	2. Kiss & Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I can’t believe you agreed to this,” Jane said, as she watched Darcy pack a bag. Darcy scrunched her nose. Jane was taking the news a little hard. It would be their first Christmas apart in years.

“Which sweater says ‘I’m a little trashy and you don’t want me dating your beloved son, the heroic SHIELD triple agent'?” she said, holding up a v-neck sweater and a wrap one. “Red or purple?” She looked at Jane. “Red is sluttier than purple, right?”

“Seriously?” Jane said. “Heroic? He’s been banging you on my stuff.”

“Well, he had to stay away from his family while he was doing the triple agent thing within HYDRA and stealing back equipment as Crossbones, so I assume they think he’s a hero,” Darcy mused. Brock was pretty cryptic about all the Uprising stuff, but she’d pieced together that he and Rollins had freed Bucky Barnes, tried to take in Pierce, Brock had been badly burned at Triskelion. Then he’d done some more SHIELD work as a fake mercenary called Crossbones before Helen Cho healed him.

“Uh-huh,” Jane said. “You’ve talked about that?”

“It’s not like we’re _dating_ dating,” Darcy said. “We’re friends. He just needs someone to insulate him from family drama or something? And if it doesn’t matter, there’s no pressure on me. Which is nice. Ugh, I still have nightmares about that one holiday I spent with Ian’s family and I was a wreck.” 

“I remember,” Jane murmured, shaking her head. “You were a wreck. You called me every day, crying.”

“Yes. That place had all the cheer of a mausoleum. Fa-la-la-horror show,” Darcy singsonged. Weirdly, Ian’s family were what Darcy and Jane called fancy British. The types who wore top hats to weddings. Their huge, ancient house had a name and all the dinners had been formal affairs with family silver and heavy alcohol. Darcy had felt totally out of place. “I hope Brock’s mom doesn’t serve cold soup,” she said, making a gag face at the memory of vichyssoise. “Potaoes should never be cold.”

“If this is all to get out of future Christmases, can’t you just spit it out?” Jane said shrewdly. Darcy’s mouth fell open in delight.

“Oh, Jane, you’re a genius,” Darcy said. “You brilliant, brilliant woman. I love you. I can spit it out!” Darcy clapped and cheered. “I can dress slutty and be rude, this is fantastic.”

“You’re still leaving me at Christmas,” Jane said, gazing at her suitcase. She sounded a little peevish.

“About that,” Darcy said. “You won’t be totally alone. Remember Jack? Brock’s old second-lieutenant?”

“Agent Murderface?” Jane said.

“His whole family’s in Australia, so he agreed to fill in for me and spend time with y--the lab,” Darcy amended. “He wants to spend time in the lab. He’s interested in your work.”

“Great,” Jane said grimly. “I’ll be all alone with Agent Murderface. On Christmas!”

“Jane, I’m sure he hasn’t murdered anybody who didn’t deserve it,” Darcy said cajolingly. “Pretty sure. I mean, who knows how Fury found him…”

“He looks homicidal,” Jane said.

“Jack likes you,” Darcy insisted. “Do you know if there’s a liquids limit on the train? Is it three ounces, too?”

“You’re taking a train?” Jane said. “Won’t that be longer?”

“Yeah, Brock says that means we can get there later and leave sooner,” Darcy said. “I gotta take some books and my chargers so I can listen to music or podcasts. I think it’s gonna take three hours or more. Oh, wait, where’s that one--”

“That one what?” Jane said. 

“I have a book I think Brock would like to read,” she said, poking around in her bookshelf. She picked out a few non-fiction books he might enjoy on the train, then retrieved a book on Italian she was reading and another on the history of Chanel no. 5 for herself. Brock would probably tease her about those. “This makes me look shallow, right? Well, Dianne Hales isn’t shallow but what would you say about someone who showed up reading about perfume and foreign languages? It’s lightweight, right?” Darcy said, looking at Jane and scrunching her nose in thought. 

“That depends entirely on the kind of woman he’s dated before,” Jane said. “Those could make you look highly intellectual if his usual girlfriends are reading books written by Real Housewives.”

“Don’t mock, Jane, celebrity ghostwriters work hard, remember that _New Yorker_ profile I sent you about the woman who did Sarah Palin’s book?” Darcy said. “I can’t imagine trying to piece together an entire book by interviewing celebrities whenever they have a sec. It sounds exhausting.”

“I bet Brock probably only dates women who read _Us Weekly,”_ Jane joked. 

“He likes to read,” Darcy said, feeling oddly defensive. “The first time we met, he asked about my book.”

“He was totally picking you up,” Jane said.

“How do you know?” Darcy said. “You were probably eating. Or thinking.” It had been in SHIELD’s cafeteria.

“I was there,” Jane insisted. 

“But were you really paying attention?” Darcy asked, grinning.

“Shut up,” Jane said, tossing the penguin plush on Darcy’s bed at her.

“No throwing Penny Penguin!” Darcy scolded. She squinted at her belongings. “I’ll take the Chanel no. 5 book. That’s the right image for this trip. Like I might be looking for a guy with money or something.”

  
  


Jack drove the two of them to Union Station a few days before Christmas. SHIELD was on semi-shutdown for the holidays. Jane tagged along, seeming a little pouty. Brock was gloomy, too, Darcy thought. He was gazing out the car window, grimacing at the traffic. “You guys should do some fun stuff,” Darcy said coaxingly.

“Sure,” Jack said brightly. He gave Jane one of his feral grins. Jack was smitten with the scientist. Jane hadn’t caught on yet. But Darcy was hoping his whole chill and tall vibe would register eventually. He was handsome. 

“Okay,” Jane said. “Like what?” 

“Oh, there’s that Chinese place we were going to try”--Darcy and Jane had a long-running tradition of having Chinese on Christmas because Darcy preferred baking to cooking turkeys and Jane burned things--”maybe some window shopping?” Darcy said. She’d given Jack a list of Jane-appropriate activities and even pre-made some cookie dough so they could bake Jane’s favorite cookies together. Jack had assured her that he was good at oven supervision. He nodded at her in the rearview mirror.

“I can’t believe you’re going,” Jane sighed.

“Just for a few days!” Darcy said.

“A few miserable days,” Brock added. “At which point, you’ll never need to worry about her leaving again, Foster.”

“It’ll be fine, everyone will be fine,” Darcy said, trying to rally everyone. “I have a plan, this is going to be a good holiday, all right?” She reached over and squeezed Brock’s hand. “We got this,” she told him. 

“You haven’t met my mother,” he said grimly. He scowled. It was almost cute. 

“She can’t be that bad,” Darcy said. He made a noise. “Do I need to be nervous that she’ll hate me?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “She’s determined to like you.”

“We’ll leave the house. I have lists of places in New York I’ve never been,” she said smoothly. “Central Park, Tiffany’s--”

“I thought you’d been to New York before?” Jane said, frowning.

“Not that his mom knows about!” Darcy said, laughing. Brock looked at her in surprise, a slow smile crossing his face.

“Clever girl,” Jack said, grinning, from the driver’s seat. Jane turned to look at him.

“You stole that from _Jurassic Park,”_ Jane said.

“Yes, I did,” Jack said, smiling happily. He smiled every time she spoke to him, even when she’d told him to get out of the way when they were loading Darcy’s bag.

“He stole his whole damn personality from that movie,” Brock said, expression going smug. 

“Don’t let his fitness level fool you, he’s just one of the bloody computer nerds who gets eaten in the first part,” Jack said slyly.

“Oh really?” Darcy said, trying not to laugh at Jack. She glanced at Brock. Their fingers were still enterwined. She couldn’t imagine him as nerdy. He was almost ridiculously masculine. The abs, the five o’clock shadow, the tattoos, he was like a walking illustration for the word macho. 

“He says that because I minored in computer science,” Brock said, shifting slightly, but not letting go of Darcy’s hand.

“Oooh, cool,” Darcy said, surprised. They’d never talked about his past much. He seemed to be present-oriented. “We should probably talk about what we should know on the train. Stuff like that. I brought you a book to read,” she said. 

“Yeah?” Brock said.

“She brought me one, too,” Jack said, braking at a stoplight. She’d passed it to him when he picked up her and Jane. “Don’t let it go to your head, mate,” he said.

“Why’d he get a book?” Jane said.

“In case you want to work today, he could read in the lab,” Darcy said. “It’s that David Gann collection I made you read when you had a cold, the one you really liked, Jane.” She’d used the book as a pretext: the list of fun activities was covertly smuggled inside, along with tickets to a concert Jane might like. Jack could surprise her, Darcy had thought. They’d texted about it. Jack had insisted on paying Darcy back the ticket cost. She thought it was sweet. 

“Oh, I did like those,” Jane said, mollified. “I don’t feel like working, though.” Darcy mock-gasped.

“You’re kidding!” she said. “You? Who are you? Where’s Jane, you pod person?”

“Shut up,” Jane grumbled. 

“We’ll do something fun, darl,” Jack said to Jane. When he glanced back at Darcy in the rearview mirror, she winked at him. Then she realized Brock was watching. He tilted his head quizzically and she grinned. Darcy shook her head a fraction, so Brock wouldn’t spill the secret. “Here we are,” Jack said, when they got to the drop off point for Union Station.

“Ooooh, it’s literally called Kiss & Ride,” Darcy said, delighted. She snapped a photo of the blue sign on a column. “This is going online.”

“I’ll get the bags,” Brock said, hopping out with a weary sigh.

“Wait, I didn’t kiss you!” Darcy said. 

“You’re going with me,” he said, before he shut the door.

“Or ride you!” Darcy yelled as it shut. Jack laughed.

“I’m going to miss you,” Jane said. “You’re the only person I know who gets this happy when you see the Kiss & Ride sign.”

“That sounds tragic,” Jack said wryly. Darcy almost snorted. He was totally angling for his own kiss and ride, she thought.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Darcy said. But she hugged Jane, anyway. And grinned at Jack over her shoulder.

“So, what are you and Jack planning?” Brock asked, once they were settled on the train. He’d given her the better of their two seats and glared at a guy checking her out, to her amusement.

“I think he likes Jane, so I made plans for them. You, too, mister. Here’s your book,” she said, passing it to him. “No worries if you don’t like it,” she added. “We’ve got three hours to kill, right? So, I thought, ooh, escapist reading as a distraction,” Darcy said. He was staring at the book. She’d grabbed him one about a noted wine fraudster. He liked wine and mocking gullible rich people.

“Three hours and then we’re in hell,” he said. Darcy grinned at him. “Thanks,” he added. He looked at her. “I mean that. What are you reading?”

 _“The Book of Delights,”_ she said. His eyes lit up.

“Sex book?” he said, smirking and looking lighter and less worried. She laughed and shook her head.

“It’s just a bunch of vignettes about stuff the author thinks are delightful,” she said. “Random stuff, like espresso. Canceling plans. Flowers that grow on the sidewalk. He’s a poet.” She expected Brock to tease her. He was looking at her seriously now, though.

“Can I read that one?” he said. “I have a fucking feeling that nothing’s gonna delight me ‘til New Years.”

“Sure,” she said, swapping his book for hers. She tucked the wine book back in her bag and turned on a food podcast. Anne Byrn was talking gently about ginger cookies as the train clattered along. Next to her, Brock sighed as he read. “Hmm?” she said, taking an earbud out.

“I don’t enjoy shit,” he muttered, looking down at the book.

“Not true,” she said mirthfully. “I’ve seen you at the gym, you love hitting things.” He exhaled roughly and shook his head at her, grinning. “And I saw how your eyes lit up when you thought this was about sex,” she teased. 

“God, I hope we can fuck there,” he said, frowning. “She can’t put us in separate bedrooms, I’m almost fifty fucking years old.”

“Her house, her rules?” Darcy said, smiling widely.

“Oh God,” he said, rubbing his forehead. She brushed his hair back gently.

“You’re a STRIKE Commander, you can totally sneak into a girl’s room,” she reassured him. “It’ll add to the experience.” He snorted. “And you’re only forty-three,” she reminded him. He sighed.

“I’m forty-six,” he said.

“You lied to me about your age?” Darcy said, giggling.

“Yeah. You mad?” he asked. She shook her head, amused.

“You really could have gone down to thirty-nine and I would’ve believed you,” she told him. “I’m kinda disappointed in your lack of initiative.”

  
  


“We haven’t rehearsed our stories,” Darcy said, when they arrived at Penn Station and disembarked from the train. He reached over and took her rolling suitcase.

“I got it. You want coffee before we head that way?” Brock asked. He looked jittery. She’d caught him getting tenser and tenser as they got closer to the city.

“Sure,” Darcy said. They stopped at a coffee shop and he got her a latte. 

“Here,” he said, handing her the paper cup. “My mother always knows when I’m lying,” he announced, sitting down across from her. “So, no stories. Just, uh, be natural.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “We met at work, I’m Jane’s assistant, yadda yadda?” She gestured with her cup. “Are we taking the subway?” 

“No,” Brock said, recoiling. “I’ll get an Uber, it’ll take longer.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Is your family that horrible?”

“It’s a big family gathering,” he said, cupping his own coffee and looking away. “Lots of bullshit. Too many people in one place, you know?”

“I really don’t,” Darcy confessed. “It was just me and my mom growing up. And then me and Jane, so I’m used to three people at Christmas, max. Maybe a Thor.” 

“Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t know.” He looked thoughtful. “My family’s, uh, loud?”

“Okay,” she said. ”What else?”

“My Uncle Jimmy is definitely gonna get drunk and start ranting about the Democrats ruining America, please don’t tase him,” Brock said, more lightly. He smirked.

“Now you tell me,” Darcy said, mock-complaining. “You didn’t tell me that before the train left DC.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “That was intentional.”

“Can I at least tell Jimmy I’m a bisexual pagan abortionist here to take his guns and seduce his wife?” she joked.

“Eh, you’re too pretty for that to work right, sweetheart. He’d probably hit on you,” Brock said, thumbing the lid of his coffee cup. She noticed he licked his lips slightly and gave her a look.

“Damn,” Darcy said. “Foiled again.” Brock smirked at her. 

“Drink your mocha marshmallow nightmare,” he said.

“Health nut,” she said. She looked around and at the city foot traffic outside the window. There were lights up in the store windows across the street. “It is exciting to be here at Christmas, though.”

“We’ll go out and do stuff,” Brock said. “That was a good idea.”

“I know,” she told him pertly. They lapsed into silence. She listened to the coffee shop’s Christmas music and the sound of milk steamers. Pleasant sounds, Darcy thought. Brock drank his coffee and read some more of her book on delightful things. “Better yet?” she said, once they’d finished their drinks.

“I wish we could check into a goddamned hotel,” he said. “That’d be a fucking delight.”

“Mmmm,” Darcy said, thinking of a big, comfortable bed and getting to put her mouth all over him for several days, uninterrupted by work. She could use a sex-cation, she decided, imagining it vividly. The hungry expression on his face while she was on top of him, his fingers gripping her thighs. “Mmm-hmm,” she agreed. He looked at her.

“Don’t,” he said, pointing at her with an index finger scoldingly. “None of your noises, woman.” He stood up, tucking her book into his duffel bag and gathering their trash to toss into a nearby trash can. “We should go, before I’m tempted.”

“What noises?” she said. “I make noises?”

“You know,” he said. “You know what you do.”

“I do not,” Darcy said. “Hold on, I’m still packing.” Her stuff was on the table. She started to gather her things, but he was moving away. “Brock, come back here!”

  
  


They took an Uber to the Bronx. It took much longer than the subway, according to Darcy’s phone, but she got to look at the streets as they sat in traffic. “So,” their driver said, “you are here on vacation?” His name was Nasser. Darcy had already discovered that he was from Libya and was, yes, named after the former Egyptian president. 

“I’m from here,” Brock grumbled. “She’s on vacation.”

“I’m very excited,” Darcy said. “He’s worried about his mother’s meeting me.”

“You are getting married?” he asked. Darcy looked at Brock and started to laugh at his horrified expression.

“I think that’s a no,” she said brightly.

“I just realized my mother is going to ask that,” Brock said, shaking his head.

“Especially at your age,” Nasser said. “He is divorced?”

“Nope,” Darcy said. “Just playing hard to get.” She looped her arm around Brock’s elbow as he sighed. “He’s very eligible,” Darcy added, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Single guy, no kids.”

“Don’t try to make me feel better,” Brock said. “I’m so fucked.”

“How far are we from the Bronx Zoo?” Darcy asked Nasser, patting Brock’s arm in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“Not far,” Nasser said. “My daughters loved the zoo.” Cars honked and people hurried past on the sidewalk.

“We should go,” Darcy said. “If they’re open.” As they got closer, she realized she was a tiny bit nervous about how everything would unfold. What if they disliked her? Or she punched a drunk uncle? She would need to behave. But it was difficult to know how when you didn’t do big family holidays normally. 

Eventually, they made it to the Bronx. Nasser stopped the car in front of a house. “This is it?” Darcy said, peering out the window so intently that she left a nose smudge on the glass. It was a brick two story house with a raised porch. Modest-looking. The front yard was fenced with white wrought iron and brick. The front yard, like all the others on the street, had been paved to make a parking space. There was a plastic manger out front, squeezed on the other side of the car. And lots of Christmas lights. Oodles of them, strung along the metal fencing and the house itself. Even over the awning above the front door. She smiled in relief. No evidence of snooty personalities in sight.

“Yes,” Brock said, sighing. He thanked Nasser. “Here we fucking go,” he added under his breath.

“Drive safe,” Darcy told the driver, stepping out of the car as Brock got their bags. She watched as the car drove off, then looked at Brock. He was grimacing at the house from his place on the sidewalk. “What is it?” she asked.

“Tacky fucking lights,” he muttered. “I thought she’d have scaled back by now.”

“Oh, I think they’re cute,” Darcy said. “Your mom would probably like my fireworks lights, right?” Brock had teased her about the lights she hung in her bedroom.

“She probably would,” he said, sounding grim. He shook his head as they walked around the car to the front stairs. They had to edge along a thin strip of brown grass lit with Santa faces. “Jesus,” Brock said. 

“He’s right up front,” Darcy said cheerfully, meaning the plastic Holy Family. 

“Stop enjoying this so much--and watch your step, it’s slippery,” he said, as he climbed the the steps to the front door.

“Boooo,” Darcy said. “This is fun for me.” But she could feel anxiety in her chest as she followed Brock. He stepped onto the porch and rang the bell. Darcy looked at the ornate security door and realized she was holding her breath a little. _How badly could a few days go?_

“What’s wrong?” Brock said suddenly, catching her expression. 

“I’m nervous--” she began.

The front door behind the metal one opened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They really call it Kiss and Ride! There are signs and everything: https://www.unionstationdc.com/pdfs/CellPhoneWaitingLot.pdf
> 
> Also, I'm headcanoning that Brock's mom lives in one of these semi-detached brick houses you see in the Bronx where they've paved the fenced-in tiny front yard to ensure they've got one saved parking space: https://goo.gl/maps/nvo916CNi2jahGhH9 
> 
> Here's a Zillow listing from that same street, where it is wildly obvious a Mom lives here--possibly an Italian Mom, based entirely on my anecdotal knowledge that Italian moms from NY seem to appreciate/love that soft Venetian pink color more than other Moms: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2180-Arthur-Ave-Bronx-NY-10457/29784650_zpid/


	3. Christmas Isn't Christmas Without....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing

“You’re here---Princess get back here!” the woman said, as a poodle darted between her ankles. Darcy got a brief glimpse of Brock’s mother---a dark bob haloing her face, colorful makeup, and a glittering Christmas sweater stood out--before she saw the poodle and dived instinctively. “Oh my God!” Brock’s mother yelled.

“Whoa, puppy,” Darcy said simultaneously. She scrambled down a few steps in a crouch to grab at the dog and miracle of miracles, actually got her hands around the curly-haired tummy. Her legs were awkwardly balanced between two steps and she thought she might get bitten as she hunched over the poodle. But instead, Princess licked at her face and wiggled. “I got her!” she yelled triumphantly, using one hand to keep from sliding further down the steps and tucking the dog under her other arm.

“You got her?” Brock said, sounding incredulous. He was a step above Darcy. She’d beat him, she thought gleefully. Mostly because he had their bags, but whatevs.

“No need to sound so skeptical,” Darcy said, looking up through her hair. She could see his face and his mother’s feet. Mrs. Rumlow was wearing ankle boots with heels. Her slacks were made out of a shiny gold fabric. “But I’m not certain if I can actually stand up,” Darcy admitted, half-sitting. “Help.”

“Is she hurt?” his mother said.

“I don’t think so,” Brock said.

“I just have no balance,” Darcy said cheerfully, still hanging onto Princess. “But I love dogs.”

“No balance?” his mother said, sounding confused.

“She’s not an agent, Ma,” he said. Someone else’s feet appeared behind Brock’s mother’s, clad in fuzzy slippers. 

“What’s going on?” a second female voice said. 

“This,” Brock said, leaning down to lift and steady Darcy, “is my mother, Angela, and my little sister, Fallon.”

“Hi,” Darcy said, straightening up slowly and carefully. She didn’t want to actually lose her balance and fall over backward. Especially not holding the dog. Princess looked pleased at being the center of attention, though. She was bright-eyed.

“Somebody take the dog,” Brock said.

“I’ll get her,” Fallon said. “Did Brock knock you down trying to flee?” she asked Darcy, taking the dog out of her arms. Fallon was younger than him, probably about Darcy’s age, with curly dark hair and an amused expression. She had his cheekbones, Darcy noticed, but was tiny and dressed in a sweatshirt that said _Deck Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself_ and plaid pajama pants. Much more Darcy’s speed.

“No,” Brock said. “Where do you--”

“Good, ‘cause then I’d own Cousin Bobby twenty bucks,” she said. Darcy laughed; she couldn’t help herself. Fallon went in first, passing Princess to Angela. Brock carefully led Darcy into the house and dumped their bags by the front door.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said reflexively, when she’d looked around, “I’m a little dirty.” Her hands and leggings were visibly dirty from scrambling down the steps. The front room was clearly a formal living room with pale couches, frilly curtains, and framed paintings of flowers and little china knickknacks. The walls were painted a soft pink. A white Christmas tree divided the space between the living room and a dining room. Everything was pink and cream and reminded her a little of a wedding cake or a girl’s Easter dress. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Brock said. “You caught her dog. Since when do you have a dog?” She realized he was looking at his mother.

“It used to be Phyllis’s dog, but Bob didn’t like it,” his mother said. “You know how Bob is.”

“An asshole,” Brock said, steering Darcy towards a white couch with both hands.

“She wants to chase cars, but she doesn’t pull on the leash, thank God,” Angela added. 

“I’m not clean enough to sit there!” Darcy hissed, trying to pitch her voice low. She was fairly sure there was dirt on her ass, too. She’d leave smudges all over this room.

“Please, she probably just took the damn plastic off,” he said, hands firm. Darcy tried to plant her feet and stop him.

“Why are you so strong?” she muttered. Nobody seemed to hear her.

“Nope,” Fallon said gleefully to Brock, locking the front door. “No more plastic! She gave the old couches to Aunt Anita because of the dog. And she put a TV in here!” There was a small flatscreen in the corner.

“What do I need those antiques for?” his mother said, putting the dog down. Princess took off and flung herself onto the couch in front of the window, sticking her face in between the blind slats. “They were your father’s mother’s and nobody liked to sit on them. I’m old, I want somewhere comfortable to sit. And Princess likes to look out the window.”

“Where is everybody?” Brock said. It seemed to be just the four of them. None of the cousins and aunts and uncles Darcy’d been expecting. Which demolished her strategy to be inappropriate by flirting with Brock’s drunk uncles or something. That and the state of her. She felt acutely conscious of her smudged hands.

“Nobody’s coming until dinner on Christmas Eve, they all have lives, too,” his mother said. “We shortened the holiday because everyone young has to work.”

“You did?” Brock said. He looked at his sister. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“Because I’m a good daughter,” Fallon said, smirking. “And my roommate’s girlfriend makes me insane, so I’m crashing here. Come on, Darcy, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, relieved when Brock let go of her. She turned back and got her bag. She had wet wipes in there somewhere. “I’m going to get cleaned up and change,” she told him, pulling out one cloth to mop at her hands.

“What kind of Chinese do you like, honey?” his mother said.

“Chinese?” Brock said, sounding baffled.

“We’re having Chinese and watching romcoms,” his sister said. 

“We’re what?” Brock said, looking like someone had just punched him in the jaw.

“I’m cooking the normal things later,” his mother said, then smiled at Darcy. “Why should I cook tonight? So, we’re ordering in.”

“We’re ordering innnnnnnn,” Fallon said slowly to Brock. 

“I like crispy honey shrimp,” Darcy said, feeling torn between laughter and sympathy. “Or shrimp fried rice, if they don’t have that here. Brock knows my Chinese order.” She reached into her purse to hand him money and he made a sound.

“Put your money away,” he said.

“I’m a guest,” she insisted.

“I’ve got this,” he said. Darcy realized Angela and Fallon were staring at them and decided to give in.

“Fine, spend your money,” she said.

“Crispy honey shrimp,” she heard him repeat with a sigh, as she followed Fallon to the bathroom near the staircase. “I brought somebody home and we’re eating Chinese?” he said.

“I don’t mind!” Darcy yelled. That made Fallon laugh. She was opening a bathroom door for Darcy.

“Toilet’s wonky, jiggle the handle,” she said. “We’re classy people, as you can tell.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said, giggling in spite of her vow to be terrible and rude. She looked around, once she’d closed the door. Everything was feminine here, too. The bathroom must be original; it had old-fashioned blue tilework. There were guest soaps shaped like roses and towels with ribboned edges. A mini Christmas tree sat in the middle of the countertop. It was the sort of thing she would normally love and think of as adorably kitschy. 

She wondered how, exactly, she was supposed to alienate his family without her plan A. Darcy texted Jane.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Help, genius! There are no men here. It’s just me, him, his mom, and his sister. I can’t flirt or tell dirty jokes or be sexually inappropriate with food with this audience. How do I make them hate me?

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** I dunno. Let me think about it? Why is Murderface taking me to a She & Him holiday concert?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I thought you’d like to go, you like _Christmas Party_ when I play it in the lab...

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Please, you like them and would be dragging me there if you were here. You started playing Christmas music on Nov. 1st. Now you’re making him do you things with me? He’s too friendly, by the way.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Okay, fine. I admit it. I wanted to go, so I’m living vicariously through you and an extremely tall Australian. Also, he’s not too friendly, he’s very chill. It’s the perfect amount of friendly.

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** I don’t trust it.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Learn to trust, Jane. Open your heart to the spirit of the season. Fate is bringing you and Jack together for reasons.

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Shut up, Hallmark movie. What’s happened so far?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I very nearly fell on my ass and got all dirty catching Brock’s mom’s poodle when she tried to make a run for it. That was my first impression. Now we’re having Chinese. The poodle’s name is Princess.

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** That’s sort of an average day for you.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Yup. What do I dooooooooooo?

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Just be loud and obnoxious? 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I guess? I can’t figure out my role now that it’s not gonna be Dirty Joke Darcy and I’ve shown my true personality by throwing myself at the nearest puppy. Maybe I should just put on pajamas? His sister is wearing them. His mom is sorta fun glitzy, but I can’t tell what she thinks of me. 

**Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Murderface Rollins just asked me if I want to go to something called zoolights tonight?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Go, Jane, go! It’s lights at the zoo, totally bucket list. Take pictures!

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Fine. But I want you to know I’m not going to like it.

When she’d de-schmutzed and pajama’d herself, Darcy came out and moved towards the kitchen. She stopped in the hallway when she heard Brock’s voice. “--need to be in the same bedroom, Ma. She doesn’t know anybody,” he said. “She’ll be more comfortable with me.” Darcy heard Fallon laugh. “What?” Brock said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fallon said. “He’s afraid if you separate them, she’ll sneak out a window once she’s met the entire family!” There was laughter. 

_Okay,_ Darcy thought, _this isn’t so bad. It’s just his mother and sister. Maybe I can just talk a lot? Not let anyone get a word in?_

“I wasn’t going to separate you, I’m not a hundred,” Angela said.

“Oh,” Brock said. There was a pause. “Good.”

“Hi,” Darcy said, rounding the corner into the kitchen. Brock looked up at her. 

“Cute pajamas,” he said, sounding like himself. He smirked and stood up from the square table in the center of the room. “I’m gonna take our stuff upstairs,” he told her, taking the bag out of her hand.

“They have little dogs!” Darcy insisted. “They are cute pjs.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Ahem,” Fallon said. She pointed up. Darcy looked. Above them, there was mistletoe hanging from the doorway.

“Oh,” she said. She’d kissed Brock plenty, but never with an audience. She looked at him. He grinned slowly at her and then lowered his mouth to hers. She expected a light kiss, but he surprised her by cupping her neck with his free hand and kissing her intensely. He was a very good kisser. Stupidly, she melted against him, knees weak. Distantly, she was aware of Fallon laughing at them and his mother shushing her. But the major part of her attention was focused on his lips. She sighed and leaned against him more.

“Stop that,” Angela said to a laughing Fallon, as Brock pulled back. He made to let go of her, then realized she was leaning heavily and stopped.

“You okay?” he said to Darcy. He was smirking at her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head and straightening up slowly. He laughed.

“I’m going to let you go now,” he said.

“Shut up,” she muttered, blushing wildly. He left the room and she didn’t know where to look. So, she yelled at Brock instead. “Don’t jostle that, there are breakable presents in my bag,” she called out, as he thudded up the stairs.

“I told you not to,” he yelled back.

“I didn’t listen!” she called up. That counted for loud and obnoxious, she thought, making eye contact with his mother and smiling weakly. She didn’t know why she felt so thrown off. She’d been cool all the way up here. 

“Please sit,” Angela said. “You want some wine, honey?”

“Sure,” Darcy said, pulling out a chair. It might be his mother, Darcy thought. She was well-groomed, if slightly flashy: her hair was glossy and expensive-looking--like Brock’s, Darcy’s brain supplied, remembering that he had tons of hair products--and her makeup was elaborate. She was wearing a Christmas sweater, a bib necklace, and a wristful of bangles. It was a whole look. 

“I’m going to see how many Katherine Heigl movies are on streaming,” Fallon said with a cackle. Darcy listened to her feet bounce across the living room. She looked at Angela.

“Brock’s gonna love that,” Darcy said, feeling painfully awkward again now that she was alone with his mom after that kiss. At least Fallon laughed at them. She was really out of practice with boyfriend’s mom small talk. His mother passed her a glass of wine and Darcy sipped it with a phony-feeling smile. “Thank you,” she said, mid-sip.

“Your family must be missing you,” she said. “Your parents are okay with you not being home for Christmas?” It was a loaded question. Darcy paused for a second.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Well, I’m an only child and my mom raised me by herself. So, it used to be just us at holidays. She lives in North Carolina, so we see each other a lot the rest of the year now that I’m in DC. But a few years ago, when I was in London working, she met a guy. They’re pretty serious now, so she’s visiting his children and grandchildren with him this year. One of them, anyway. He has three daughters.”

“They didn’t invite you?” Angela said, frowning. From the living room, Fallon laughed and the dog barked. 

“Oh, they did,” Darcy said, “but, um, there’s a lot stuff there.” She made a face, the realized she was missing an opportunity to sound extra-dysfunctional and like Bad GF Material. This was the kind of story that would have completely horrified Ian’s mom. She usually didn’t talk about why she’d decided to stay with Jane for the last several Christmases, citing work, and only Facetimed her mom and then visited in January. Darcy inhaled, then explained. “Well, the last time they did Thanksgiving with everybody there, two of the girls got into an actual fistfight in the front yard over something. I missed that one, I was in Norway. I just got updates by phone,” Darcy said, smiling. “My mom did send me a video. Did you want to see it?” she asked, hoping she sounded innocent. This was the goal, right? Get his mother never to ask her--or anyone--to come home with him?

“What are you looking at?” Brock said, when he returned to the kitchen. The three of them were hovering over Darcy’s phone, which was emitting a series of screams and swear words.

_“You skinny drunk bitch!”_

_“Fuck!”_

_“Girls! Girls! Stop that!”_

“Darcy’s mom’s boyfriend’s kids fighting in the yard,” Fallon said happily. “It must be warm there, there’s no snow.”

“I think it was in the fifties,” Darcy said, as Brock came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I forgot Tom fell down when he tried to break that up.”

“The leaves broke his fall,” Fallon said.

“That’s when my mom almost dropped the phone,” Darcy said, as the screen wobbled. 

“Jesus,” Brock said. The doorbell rang.

“Chinese,” his mother said, eyes still glued to Darcy’s phone screen.

“I’ll get it,” Brock said, disappearing. 

“Thirty year old women fighting,” Angela said, hand on her mouth. Her long nails were painted apricot pink and she was wearing several rings. “Is this normal down there?”

“Nope,” Darcy said. “They’re pretty...special.” Fallon snorted.

“This is great,” she said. “It’s like Jerry Springer, but outside.” She squealed. “More hair pulling!” she said, making the dog bark.

“I’m glad you’re not there,” Angela said, frowning. “That blonde one almost yanked her sister’s hair out.”

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Apparently, she has a lethal pulling arm. I just try to stay out of it.”

“Food’s here,” Brock said. He’d gotten the door. They all looked up at him.

“We’ll eat in the living room,” his mother said. Darcy took a minute to text her mother to say they’d arrived and everything was okay. She’d meant to do it while they were having coffee, but had been distracted by the city and Brock’s nervousness.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** How are things?

 **Mom AF:** No one has thrown anything yet, so I’m counting it as a win. Is his family nice?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Yup. They have a dog, too.

 **Mom AF:** I’ve decided you should only date people with nice families once you’re 35 and I finally let you date.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Noted. Love you! I’ve got fancy NYC Christmas photos from the Uber for you.

 **Mom AF:** Love you too, sweetie! Can’t wait to see you!

“I can’t believe we’re eating on a couch,” Brock said, passing Darcy her container of Chinese food. “Don’t feed the dog,” he told her.

“Why can’t I feed Princess?” Darcy said.

“Get with this century,” Fallon said to her brother. “Nobody eats at a table anymore.” Angela was getting more wine in the kitchen.

“Because then all she’ll do is beg for food,” Brock said to Darcy. Princess was looking at Darcy now. Her brown eyes were pleading. It was very sweet.

“Awwww,” Darcy said.

“Sucker,” Brock said.

“He eats on a couch in DC,” Darcy said to Fallon, feeling vindictive. She wanted to sneak the dog some food. As long as Princess could have human food. Brock wasn’t the boss of her.

“Yeah, but not here,” Brock said. “It’s weird.” He lowered his voice and leaned towards Fallon. “What’s she gonna do next? Say she likes my tattoos or something?” he whispered. “What is going on?” Fallon laughed.

“Why are you so alarmed?” Darcy asked. He looked thoughtful, as if he wanted to answer, but shut his mouth abruptly when Angela returned and sat down.

“How’d you meet?” she asked, as Fallon scrolled through their movie options, laughing to herself.

“No,” Brock said. “Not that one, for Christssake.” He was clearly talking to his sister.

“Work,” Darcy said. “We, uh---”

“I saw her across the cafeteria,” Brock cut in. “She was reading a book about Italian culture and I knew.”

“Knew what?” Darcy said. 

“That you’d be interested in me,” he said. “Also, you looked pretty cute for a girl in glasses.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said, elbowing him.

“Ow,” he said. “She’s got pointy elbows.”

“Ohhh,” Fallon said, “What about _Sex Sent Me To The ER?”_

“Sounds fun,” Darcy said, realizing she could tell inappropriate stories and maybe scare off Angela. Just be wildly inappropriate and unfiltered. That felt less fake. “Did you tell your mom about that time you pulled a groin muscle having shower sex with me?” Darcy asked. Brock started to cough. Darcy looked at Angela and smiled brightly. “My mom loves that story.” Fallon started to laugh. 

“Darcy--” Brock said.

“I’m torn between not wanting to know and being desperate to know,” Fallon said. “Ma?”

“No,” Brock said. He sounded horrified.

“You want me to put you in one room, but I’m supposed to think you’re not having sex?” his mother said archly.

“Yes,” Brock said.

“Well,” Darcy said, “he didn’t have to go to the hospital, but he limped for two or three days and I had to ice his thigh. It was his inner thigh, real high up--”

“I still say it was your damn soap,” Brock said.

“I told you to use the shower bar!” Darcy said. “He thinks he’s too good for a grab bar.”

“I’m not that old,” he said stubbornly.

“Your real age or the fake one?” Darcy asked innocently.

“Fake age?” his mother said.

“He told me he was forty-three!” Darcy said.

“Oh my God, you trash panda,” Fallon said, laughing.

“Where’s your boyfriend, huh?” he asked his sister.

“He’ll be here tomorrow,” she said, then mouthed the word “asshole” and made a face at him. “He had to work late,” she added.

“Mike is very nice,” Angela said. Darcy wondered if that was in contrast to her.

“He’s all right, for an accountant,” Brock said. 

“He’s an accountant?” Darcy said. Fallon nodded. She decided to use that information. “That’s nice. I really wish I could add and subtract, but I’m terrible at math,” she said in a semi-serious voice. She tried to convey wide-eyed dopeyness or something.

“Brock was always good at math,” Angela said.

“Doesn’t really matter in her job,” he said, sounding weirdly defensive. “Foster does her own calculations.”

“What do you do?” Fallon asked.

“I make sure Jane doesn’t forget her toothbrush because she does the math,” Darcy joked lightly. “And I keep her in coffee and food.”

“I hope Jack feeds her while you’re gone,” Brock said.

“Oh, yeah, I left him a list,” Darcy said. Brock snorted and stole one of her shrimp. “Hey!” Darcy said, as Fallon started a reality show.

  
  


***

“What do you think, darl?” Jack asked, grinning at Jane. “You like the lights?” 

“They are pretty,” Jane said. Zoolights was fun, Darcy had been right. “I, uh, like the zebras.” The lit zebras had blue stripes. She was glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see her blush in the crowd. Darcy always teased Jane about having her head in the clouds, but Jane wasn’t entirely oblivious. Sometime between their arrival and Jack yanking her out of the path of a pack of manic fifth graders, it had dawned on Jane that Jack Rollins smiled at her a lot. 

Nobody had smiled at her quite this much since Thor. 

It had thrown her for a loop. How was she supposed to respond? _Did she have time to date,_ Jane wondered. _Would she need to shave her legs?_ She’d sworn off dating when she and Thor broke up. But Jack--Jack had helped her take photos for Darcy. And glared at anyone who bumped Jane. People did that a lot when you were a woman and short. Just squished you, much to Jane’s annoyance, or ran into you. So, he was a useful person to have around. If you looked at it purely from a practical point of view, maybe dating Jack Rollins wasn’t a terrible idea. Less practically, he had great cheekbones. And sturdy arms, she thought, remembering how easily he’d pulled her out of the way. “You all right?” Jack asked.

“Yeah—yes,” Jane said. It wasn’t like she was unduly influenced by his looks. She wasn’t shallow. She had a PhD.

  
  


***

“Did you have to tell my mother about how I strained my damn muscle in the shower and that you get IBS when you travel?” Brock asked Darcy, unlacing his boots. They had gone upstairs after several rounds of reality television and one Nancy Meyers movie. Darcy had talked. A lot. 

“Your sister thought it was funny,” Darcy said, fiddling in her suitcase. “Besides, I didn’t say IBS, I said I get IBS-like symptoms and that Jane was mad that I accidentally farted on some important scientists. I’d dozed off at a panel. It’s not like I could help it!” Darcy said. He made a sound. “And don’t you want me to behave badly, so she won’t expect you to bring another woman next year?” she asked.

“Next year--” he said, then stopped unlacing, “I’d like to want to have sex with you this year,” he said, smirking.

“So, I’m not getting any?” she said.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling his boot off. She’d climbed into his lap and kissed him when the bed squeaked. Loudly. “Shit, that’s noisy as hell,” Brock said, grimacing.

“New plan,” Darcy said. She reached behind him and got the pillows. “Get up, I need that blanket.” She put the pillows at the foot of the small fake tree in his old bedroom. She'd realized there was a tree in every room. Even the hallway.

“Sex on the floor?” he said, sighing.

“Not the first time,” she said, grinning. She moved to turn off the overhead light, so there was just a soft lamp. “But you were a younger man then.”

“I’m gonna make you pay for that,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. Darcy mock-whistled.

“Wow,” she said. “I just realized you’re _almost fifty_ and you look like that.”

“Shut up,” Brock muttered, looking almost abashed. He grinned more widely than he normally did. He seemed slightly different to her, away from work. Less serious.

He was gentler than normal, too, carefully sliding her pajama pants down to her ankles. “What?” Darcy said, when he paused and looked at her, licking his lips. He shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said, leaning down to dot kisses on her thighs and sliding his shoulder under one of her knees. She sucked in a breath. It was chilly in the room, so the warmth of his mouth was thrilling.

“Oh, man,” Darcy said, when she felt his tongue flick against her thighs in slow, teasing motions. He wasn’t normally this into delayed gratification. She sensed mischief. “Are you trying to make me be loud?” she wondered.

“Maybe,” he said, smirking up at her. “Couldn’t get you to shut up earlier. Why stop now?”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, when he moved to nuzzle at her and suck on her clit. She tried to muffle her groans and heard him snicker. “You--you---” she stuttered, when he suddenly stopped and kissed her legs again. 

“What?” he said, sounding smug.

“Mean,” she said, “mean.”

“Roll over,” he said. “And I’ll be nicer.” He reached for the condoms in his bag. Darcy scoffed, but then flipped over and looked back at him. He was putting one on. She giggled. “What?” he said.

“You’re just so cute for an old guy,” she said teasingly.

“Be quiet,” he grumbled, gripping her hips. 

She tried to be quiet, she really did. “Oh my God,” she moaned, pressing her face into the pillow. He was moving slowly, almost languidly, in and out of her. He’d push her to the edge and then slow down. She’d half-collapsed into the blankets, thigh muscles shaking, but he kept denying her release. She felt crazy.

“You like that?” he rasped out. 

“You’re killing me,” she gasped. He laughed. She had to beg him to keep going. He actually made her beg. She wanted to be mad about it and she was going to tell him off for doing this at his mother's house. The words died in her mouth when he snapped his hips: her orgasm hit like a chest high wave, taking her breath away. Darcy was rocked by the intensity of it and she squeezed her eyes shut, dimly aware that she was making incoherent sounds. She sank to the floor. 

“Ugh, fuck,” Brock said, collapsing on top of her. He was heavy. “You okay?” he said.

“Mmmphf,” she said, shaking her head. He laughed at her and towed them both onto their sides. She was vaguely aware of him throwing away the condom and then wrapping his arms around her again. He squeezed her.

“You’re good, huh?” he said, sounding wry. It took time for her to feel like she was capable of movement. He fell asleep before her, snoring. Darcy slipped out of his arms, pulled her pants up, and snuck into the bathroom to pee. She tried to be very quiet. 

When she opened the bedroom door again, a sliver of light from the hall hit his face, but he didn’t wake up. She took the second blanket off the bed and crawled down on the floor next to him.


	4. ....Limoncello and the Twelve Fishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy woke up in bed. She didn’t remember getting there and it dawned on her that Brock must’ve woken up at some point and moved her. She was alone now, but the sheets were warm and cozy. She should get out of bed, she thought as she closed her eyes again. Darcy was not a morning person. She snuggled in closer and realized the pillows smelled faintly like his cologne. She was halfway asleep again when her phone started to buzz wildly. “Mhhelllo?” she said into the receiver. She was expecting Jane or her mom.

“Darcy!” Erik Selvig’s voice boomed. “Merry Christmas!”

“Erik?” she said, surprised. He sounded enthusiastically sloshed, Darcy thought. “Where are you?” she asked, half-sitting up.

“Skiing in Norway,” he said. “We are having a wonderful time and I thought of you when someone fell down!” He was yelling over a noisy crowd. “You would hate it here.”

“Yes. Did you have grappa?” she asked, laughing. She had a vague memory of drinking grappa and sweating in a snowsuit while everyone else skiied.

“Vodka!” he yelled.

“Okay! Merry Christmas to you and the vodka!” she said cheerfully. 

“Ian wants to say hello,” Erik said abruptly, passing the phone. Ian was Erik’s assistant now. They had done some work in the Arctic. Jane had told Darcy their research was promising, but declared them both in need of better management. Actually, she’d said they needed a Darcy, but Darcy certainly wasn’t volunteering to do Ian’s laundry anymore.

“Darce!” Ian said through the phone. He sounded sloshed too. Normally, he didn’t yell that loudly.

“Hello,” Darcy said, moving the phone slightly away from her ear.

“How’s you--you and Jane?” he said.

“We’re fine, Ian,” Darcy said. “How are you?” At that moment, a dressed and showered Brock opened the bedroom door.

“I’m--I’m good. We’re skiing! You hate skiing!” he said.

“I do hate skiing,” Darcy said, waggling her eyebrows at Brock. He looked at her quizzically. She covered the phone. “What’s on the schedule for today, babe?” she asked quietly. Ian’s voice was audible in the room.

“Who’s that?” he said. He was frowning.

“Just Ian,” she said in a low voice.

“Your ex?” he said. She nodded. Ian was still rambling on the other end of the line.

“--on the verge of a big discovery,” he was saying, when Brock shifted to lean against the wall. He looked almost irritated.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy said. She wondered what could be bothering him. Family stuff?

“Nothing,” he said. “My mother wants to go to the damn fish market. Did you want to go? All of us?”

“Oh, cool,” Darcy said. “Yes, I do. The fish market?”

“Good,” he said. He looked relieved. It was probably a family thing, Darcy realized. He might be worried she would balk at playing fake girlfriend for the day. 

“We have fish on Christmas Eve,” Brock said, as Ian chattered in her ear.

“Good to talk you--” he was saying. Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Ian, I have to go, okay?” She used the same voice she used with small children. “Bye, bye now. Merry Christmas to you, too.” She hung up. “Erik called me,” she told Brock. “Erik Selvig.”

“I met Selvig,” he said. “When he consulted with us.”

“Ian works with him now,” Darcy explained. “They’re both drunk skiing.” She giggled. 

“What?” he said, frowning again.

“It’s a Christmas miracle if neither of them die and Erik keeps his pants,” she said, laughing. She stood up. “I’m going to see what I can do with my sex hair,” she told Brock as she opened the bedroom door--and discovered his mother standing in the hallway with Fallon, a few feet away. “Hi. Good morning,” Darcy said, momentarily embarrassed. They’d totally heard her say sex hair, she thought. This was confirmed when Fallon grinned widely.

“Good morning,” Angela said, smiling.

“Who’s Ian?” Fallon asked.

“Fallon, don’t eavesdrop,” Angela said.

“Her ex-fiancee,” Brock said, startling Darcy. She hadn’t realized he’d stepped out behind her.

“It was a long time ago,” Darcy said. 

“Was it?” Brock said. “I thought you were engaged to Fish and Chips six months ago?” His voice was wry. 

“Shut up,” Darcy said. He liked to tease her about Ian. Then she realized he might be angling for some kind of fake disagreement and wondered how she should respond. She looked at him. He looked at her.

“Fish and chips?” Fallon said.

“He’s British,” Darcy said, “but we’re over. Very over.”

“Did you want to get married?” Angela asked.

“Um,” Darcy said, momentarily flummoxed. For a second, she didn’t know what to say. Should she pretend to be interested in getting married? Or was that a mistake? So she said the first thing that came to mind. “Not to him!” she announced, a little desperately. “He likes hiking and his mother serves potato soup cold,” she said.

“Well, we know why it didn’t work then,” Brock said in a dry voice. “She takes her potatoes seriously. Where are we going, Ma?”

“Randazzo’s, I have a list,” his mother said. “They should have everything, but I want to get there today.” Darcy thought she heard holiday cooking panic in Angela’s voice.

“Cold potato soup?” Fallon said to Darcy.

“Vichyssoise,” Darcy said. “I’m sorry, I’ll be ready soon. I’ll hurry.” She looked apologetically at Angela and then scurried into the bathroom. She texted her mom and Jane and got ready quickly.

Brock was waiting for her downstairs when she put her shoes on. “You got gloves?” he asked. He was wearing a heavy coat, a scarf, and putting on gloves. “We’re walking.”

“We’re walking?” she said. A sweet smell filled the downstairs.

“It’s just down the street,” he said. “Less than half a mile. But it’s cold today.”

“Okay,” she said, bundling up in her coat and jamming her toboggan on her head. She was looking for her gloves in her messenger when Brock adjusted it, chuckling. “What?” he said.

“I can’t believe you southerners call a cap a toboggan,” he said. 

“It’s a real word!” she insisted.

“Toboggan,” he repeated. She was prepared to glare at him, but he cupped at her cheek and she felt herself blush a little instead. He was leaning down to kiss her when Darcy heard someone behind them.

“Everyone ready? We might stop at the cheese market, too,” Angela announced, coming out of the kitchen in a fur coat. Fallon was behind her. She snickered.

“Awww,” Fallon said. “Ma, look how cute they are!”

“Shut up, Fal,” Brock said. 

“I like cheese,” Darcy said, then immediately felt lame. It was the way he was affectionate with her. They were more covert at work. She wasn’t used to it. “What’s that smell? It’s wonderful,” Darcy added, trying to change the subject.

“Dough for the panettone,” Angela explained. “It takes three days.”

“It’s great, I mean, it smells great,” Darcy said.

“I notice she didn’t say she liked your mugger cap,” Fallon said, as Brock put on his own knit cap and they stepped out on the porch. Fallon went first, then Brock. Darcy followed, careful to block the dog.

“Stay,” Angela was telling the her. Darcy heard Princess whine.

“She calls ‘em toboggans,” he said. “Watch the steps, Darcy. There could be ice.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, being careful to hold the handrail. He waited for his mother on the opposite side and she moved past him.

“She calls them what?” Fallon said, already down on the sidewalk. 

“They call ‘em toboggans in the south,” he said over Darcy’s shoulder. “Ma, lemme help you. You want me to carry your shopping bags? Lock the door?”

“I’ve got the keys,” Angela said. “But, yes, take those.” She was carrying sturdy reuseable totes. Some of them were insulated.

“Can I help?” Darcy offered.

“Nope,” Brock said casually.

It was a short walk. The fish market was even on Arthur Avenue, Fallon told her, when she asked where they were going. “I didn’t realize that you crossed 182nd Street and it’s all businesses,” Darcy said, as they passed some auto repair shops. “It’s kinda like Europe,” she added. Brock snorted. “What?” Darcy said. “I meant you can walk places!”

“Yeah, everything’s walkable,” Brock said. He grinned at her. “You’ll be really excited when you see the everything after 183rd Street,” he said. She could tell he was teasing her.

“Why?” she said. 

“It’s Little Italy. A lot of restaurants and coffee places,” he told her, smirking. “You like to eat.” Ahead of them, Fallon and Angela were bickering about something called baccala, for reasons that mystified Darcy. Angela was a fast walker, Darcy thought--or just didn’t want to talk to Darcy. Was that success, she wondered?

“I hate baccala--” Fallon was saying.

“Is baccala like baklava?” she asked Brock. He burst out laughing.

“Baccala is cod,” he said. “Traditional Christmas thing. Nobody likes baccala, except my old man. Pop liked baccala, so she made it for him.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. He’d mentioned that his father had died in passing. She didn’t know if she should say anything about it. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

“You apologize for every damn little thing,” he said, as they passed a fenced area.

“What’s that?” Darcy said, curious. A guy on a bench had a friendly-looking pit bull.

“D’Auria-Murphy Park,” Brock said, voice light. “I’ll get you coffee while they fight over the fish, you can pet the dogs and I’ll show you where the Italian flag is painted in the street--”

“Hey, Darcy! Let’s vandalize the statue of Columbus,” Fallon yelled back at them suddenly. She’d turned and jerked her thumb towards a statue inside the park. “He was an asshole.”

“Don’t walk backwards, you’ll end up in traffic,” Angela scolded.

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Brock said. Fallon burst out laughing. “You’re not allowed to vandalize anything with my sister,” Brock told Darcy.

“Okay,” Darcy said. Then she mock-sighed. “He ruins all my fun!” she yelled at Fallon. 

“Don’t let him!” Fallon yelled back.

Fish shopping turned out to be a major thing. Brock explained to Darcy that his mother made fish for Christmas Eve. There was a line in the tiny fish market. “It’s a Catholic thing,” Fallon said, as they waited. “Feast of the Seven Fishes.”

“Italian thing,” Brock corrected. Fallon rolled her eyes.

“We always did seafood at Christmas,” Darcy said. “My mom and I.” Angela looked back at her.

“What kinds of fish, honey?” she asked.

“Um, sometimes shrimp and grits,” Darcy said. “Or shrimp wrapped in bacon. Crab cakes, too.I tried to do mussels with Jane one year, but we had trouble getting the shells to open--” she told Brock.

“Just one dish?” Angela said. “On Christmas?”

“It was just the two of them, Ma, they didn’t need a bunch of courses,” Brock said.

“Do you do seven kinds of fish?” Darcy asked, realization dawning.

“Twelve,” Brock said. “She usually does twelve.”

“What?” Darcy said, imagining rows and rows of mahi-mahi or something. 

“She does calamari, scampi, linguine with clams--” Fallon counted off. They moved forward with the line.

“Wow,” Darcy said. “Twelve.”

“For the apostles,” Fallon said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s tradition,” Brock said.

“Some of them have multiple kinds of fish,” Angela said. “It’s not that difficult. Three in the insalata.” 

“Cold salad,” Brock said in Darcy’s ear. Angela waved airily at her expression.

“Wow,” Darcy repeated. “That seems like a lot of cooking.” 

“You need that much food for a lot of people,” she said.

“But you’ve got to start today and it’s just you?” Darcy said, wondering how she managed it all. Brock laughed at her. “What?” Darcy said. “That’s logistics planning!”

“Fallon will help,” Angela said. Something flickered across her expression.

“You should be helping, too,” Darcy told Brock. Fallon started to giggle.

“You’re endangering your Manhattan trip,” he said in a low voice. “I was gonna take you tonight.”

“So?” she said. “It doesn’t matter if I don’t see the Tiffany’s windows. You should help your mother make twelve kinds of fish on Christmas.” Darcy realized that Angela was looking at them. “He’s good with knives,” she said to his mother. “I’ve asked him to peel me potatoes.”

“One time, I peeled potatoes,” he said.

“Does she normally tell you to do things?” Angela asked.

“Sometimes,” he said, sighing.

“Good,” Angela said. “Good for her.”

“Oooooh,” Fallon said, “somebody’s the boss of you.”

“Shut up,” he said. Darcy elbowed him a little and gave him a look. “I’ll help, Ma,” he said, smiling more gently at his mother. “Whatever you need help with, just tell me.”

“I could never tell your father anything,” Angela said. “It’s good that you’ve gotten better about that kind of thing, now that you’re in a relationship.”

That made Darcy feel guilty as hell. Worse, Angela insisted that he take her to DeLillo’s for coffee and pastries while she and Fallon went to a second fish market. “She’s got to try the cornettos,” Angela said.

“The cornettos are great,” Fallon said, longing evident. “I miss those cornettos.” She shifted the bag on her shoulder.

“That’s what you get for living in Brooklyn,” Brock said.

“Are you sure you don’t need help carrying all that?” Darcy asked Angela. Angela and Fallon were carrying the insulated bags with squid, lobster, crabmeat, shrimp, and mussels. Apparently the second place might still have some sort of fish Angela wanted.

“We’ve got it,” Fallon said. 

“No, Darcy’s right,” Brock said. “I’ll carry it home. You go on. I’ve got the spare key still,” he said, patting his jacket pocket. “Yeah, got it.”

“He can be fish security,” Darcy joked. “And maybe you can both meet us at DeLillo’s?”

“That’s a good idea,” Angela said. “Okay, we’ll meet you there. Be careful with the dog.”

“Darcy will remind me,” he said, taking the bags from her. 

“Thank you,” Fallon mouthed, before they walked in the opposite direction. Darcy gave them a little wave and Brock snickered.

“What?” she said, as they turned to walk back to the house.

“My sister likes you,” he said.

“Your mother’s still on the fence,” she said.

“You weren’t supposed to charm them,” he said. “You were going to be a pain in my ass, remember? We’re supposed to have a big dramatic breakup or some shit.” 

“The dog blew my cover,” she said.

“What are you doing?” he said. Darcy had stopped to look around, peering into traffic.

“Where’s the spot where they have the Italian flag painted on the street?” she asked. 

“Closer to DeLillo’s,” he said. “Remind me. I’ll show you.” 

“I’m still a pain in your ass,” Darcy said. “I just made you be fish security and next you’ll be cooking.”

“Goddammit, you did,” he said, scratching his stubble. He sighed. “I miss the gym. I’m happy in a gym.” 

“You’ll live,” Darcy gloated. The effect was undercut when she stumbled over her own toes and he caught her elbow.

“Who’s laughing now?” he said, taking her hand firmly. 

  
  


They were sitting in DeLillo’s when Darcy sighed. “What?” he said. Brock had been gazing off into middle distance. “Here they are,” he said a second later. His mother and sister were coming inside. It was crowded with holiday shoppers. Brock had elbowed several people aside to get Darcy a cornetto and a cappuccino. 

“I wish I grew up here,” Darcy said, as Angela and Fallon squeezed through the crowd and made it to the table. She smiled at them. “You were right, I love cornettos.” The horn-shaped pastries were filled with pastry cream. 

“You’ve got powdered sugar on your nose,” Brock said. He’d stood up to take his mother’s bags.

“I should have been Italian, I appreciate carbs much more than you,” Darcy sassed him. She poked his flat, muscular stomach. “No cornettos there.” Fallon burst out laughing.

“Ma, you want a cappuccino?” Brock said, ignoring Darcy and Fallon’s laughter. Darcy was contemplating a second cornetto when her phone rang.

“Hello?” Darcy said. It was Ian.

“Darcy!” he yelled. “Happy Christmas!”

“Oh God,” she said involuntarily. “Ian, did you forget that you called me earlier?”

“I wanted to call again!” he said. “Because I’ve made a new discovery--”

“Ian--” Darcy began, seeing Angela and Fallon’s perplexed faces across the small table.

“Give me that,” Brock said suddenly, appearing at her shoulder and yanking the phone out of her hand. “Listen, asshole,” he barked, “she’s here with me, so you can stop fucking calling, all right? She ain’t coming back to you, you got that?” He was glaring. Darcy realized her mouth had dropped open.

“Brock--” she said. Then she remembered that they’d need a breakup pretext and that he was a really great actor. He’d infiltrated HYDRA, after all. Pretending to be jealous of her ex was note-perfect.

“Yeah, I fucking thought so, asshole,” he snapped. Then he looked at Darcy. “He hung up,” Brock told her, passing back the phone. Darcy looked at the phone like it was a bomb.

“I’ll get the cappuccinos,” Fallon said, looking uncomfortable and half standing up.

“No, I got ‘em,” Brock said brusquely. He turned around and went back to the counter. 

“Well,” Darcy said awkwardly.

“Someone’s feeling territorial,” Fallon said.

“He lives in Norway!” Darcy said, playing along. “And I hate the fjords.”

“You do?” Angela said. 

“Too cold. Everyone skis and rides bicycles, it’s unAmerican,” Darcy said glibly. “I want cars and food with calories and other humans with no discernible athleticism. I need those things to feel normal.” They all pretended everything was fine when Brock returned to the table. When he took her outside to photograph the Little Italy street painting, she leaned over and whispered: “That was a great idea.”

“Huh?” he said.

“Pretending to be jealous of Ian,” she said. His confused expression cleared. “They both looked stunned,” Darcy added. “I was!” Brock grinned slyly.

“I have good ideas sometimes,” he said. “Let’s go see the cheese shop.”

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. 

  
  


The cooking of an twelve fish, multi-course Italian-American Christmas Eve meal was labor-intensive, as it turned out. Angela started as soon as they got back. The cod for the baccala needed to be soaked for three days, she told Darcy. Darcy was attempting to help, as well as she was able, by handing Angela things and wiping kitchen surfaces as they worked on stock for a cioppino and the risotto. She explained that there would be shrimp arancini, calamari, baccala, a seafood risotto, and two linguine dishes--crab and lobster. Even half the menu made Darcy feel overwhelmed. “How do you do all that?” she asked Angela.

“It takes forever,” Angela said. “And there’ll be a scampi, but that’s an easy one. Like the seafood salad.”

“Wow,” Darcy repeated.

“Can you say anything but wow?” Brock teased. 

“Shut up,” Darcy sassed. He made a face at her. Brock had been deputized to clean and prep squid for the calamari. Next, he’d been assigned to de-tail the lobsters. They worked on different tasks for several hours. Darcy mostly got to stir the risotto base for the arancini.

“Does this mean I get to watch TV? He usually gets to watch TV,” Fallon said, at one point. She’d been dicing onions, after Darcy struggled with Angela’s terrifyingly-sharp knives.

“No, I’m sending you for pizza,” her mother said. 

“She’s going alone?” Brock said. He had been a little disgruntled-seeming, but Darcy thought it was the squid. Squid was unpleasant looking in its original form. If she looked at it too long, she thought it might put her off calamari. She wanted to keep liking calamari.

“It’s not dark yet,” Angela said.

“Darcy can go with me,” Fallon said. She got the phone to call in the order.

“Fine,” Brock said. “But be careful.” He frowned at her cutting board. “Your onions are uneven as hell, Fal.”

“I did those,” Darcy said. Fallon was speaking into the phone, but waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh,” Brock said. 

“I know I’m lousy, it’s why I bake instead of cooking,” she said.

“You--” he began, but she merely laughed at him. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Darcy said. Angela was watching them closely, Darcy realized. She should have been more bitchy. “I can make you pay for that with more kitchen work,” she added, trying for snark.

“Someone’s done it now,” Fallon said. He grimaced and chopped something off the squid.

“Bastard,” he muttered. Darcy put her coat on, then remembered she was supposed to be in love with him. She turned back to the kitchen, walked over, and gripped his bicep so she could stand on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“Bye,” she whispered. “Love you.” He blinked at her. _What the fuck, brain,_ Darcy thought. _Where’d that come from?_

“Be careful,” he said. “You don’t know the neighborhood.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got my taser,” Darcy told him, panicking internally. She threw one of Princess’s toys so she and Fallon could sneak out the door. “We made it!” Darcy said happily, when the door shut behind them without a dog escape.

“So,” Fallon said, “did you want to have some fun?”

“What are you planning?” Darcy said, feeling jittery and energetic. “Are we vandalizing Columbus?”

“Nope, I realized she tossed my expired silly string,” Fallon said. “I think we should do some shots before we go back there for two days of fish cleaning.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Lead the way.” A drink didn’t sound so bad. It might help her feel less weird. She followed Fallon to a little bar, smiling at the Christmas lights strung along Arthur Ave. 

“So, Miss I Love Italian,” Fallon teased, as they sat down. “Did you want limoncello or sambuca?”

“I don’t know, which is better?” Darcy said. 

“Limoncello,” Fallon said, nodding. 

“Limoncello,” Darcy repeated. It was good, even if it burned going down. “Weren’t we supposed to be getting pizza?” Darcy asked, after her second shot. 

“They’ll text me when it’s ready, I know Jimmy,” Fallon said. Her phone rang. It was her boyfriend. “Have another one. I’m going to see if he’ll be here soon.” Darcy had another shot while Fallon called Mike. Mike was going to be there sometime after midnight. He worked late, Fallon said, joining Darcy for a limoncello, “because everyone in Manhattan works until nine. We’re lunatics.” They sat there until someone texted Fallon that the pizza was ready. 

Darcy thought she was mostly sober until she had to walk back. “Oh God,” she told Fallon, as they stumbled past the park. “I am so drunk! Your mom is going to hate me!” Fallon snorted.

“You’re a terrible lightweight,” Fallon said. She was carrying the pizza. “You’re practically sober.”

“Brock will probably be mad,” Darcy said. “We left him to squid. That’s fun to say---left him to squid,” she repeated, giggling.

“Phhffft,” Fallon said. “He won’t be mad. He’s totally in love with you.”

“No, he’s not!” Darcy said. “He thinks I’m silly.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I embarrassed him talking about farting on Jane’s Nobel committee on front of your mom,” Darcy confided. Fallon laughed so hard she had to lean against a building. “C’mon,” Darcy said. “If we’re murdered, he’ll lecture us.”

“No shit,” Fallon said. “He knows how to chop onions correctly and he knows Captain America and he knows everything--” she mimicked Brock’s voice in an uncanny way.

“That’s a really good impression,” Darcy said.

“Ma lets him get away with everything, too,” Fallon said. “You’re the only reason I’m not up to my elbows in squid.”

“That’s so sexist,” Darcy said.

“It’s so Italian,” Fallon said, sighing. “I’m so glad Mike is an Episcopalian. All I have to do when we go to his parents is bring a green bean casserole. Last year, I bought a potato salad and some caviar from Sahadi’s and they thought that was _wonderful.”_

“That’s good,” Darcy said, nodding.

“But they drink scotch,” Fallon said.

“Oh, that’s bad,” Darcy said. 

“But you love him,” Fallon said, as it was obvious. “I can totally tell.”

“What?” Darcy said. “Mike?” 

“You are so drunk,” Fallon said. “You love Brock.”

“Oh my God. Noooo,” Darcy said. She waved her arms. “I can’t, it’ll freak him out.”

“You do!” Fallon said, pointing. 

“Shit,” Darcy said. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll have, like, a mondo freakout.”

“Mondo freakout?” Fallon said. 

“I heard it once on television and now I can’t stop saying it,” Darcy said. Fallon giggled.

“You’re almost sickening together, the way he looks at you. He’s never kissed anybody like that before and you’re over there like this,” Fallon said. She mimed fainting. Or swooning. 

“It’s not like that, I swear,” Darcy stammered.

“Sure,” Fallon said, skeptically. “Just like my brother’s not crazy about you.”

“He’s not,” Darcy insisted. “I’m just his--his naked friend!” Fallon burst out laughing and Darcy realized she’d said too much. She stopped and took a deep breath. “Fallon?” she said.

“Yeah?” Fallon said. Darcy thought about telling her the truth. She really did. But she realized it might ruin the whole holiday and chickened out.

“Is this the right street?” Darcy asked.

“Yes--wait, no,” Fallon said. “Yes it is. Everything looks different at night.”

“True,” Darcy said. “That’s why people you meet in bars are less cute in the morning.”

“How many people have you met in bars?” Fallon asked, as they got to the block of houses.

“None,” Darcy sighed. “I’m woefully inexperienced.” They looked at each other and started to laugh. They were still laughing when Brock let them in.

“Where were you?” he said.

“Nowhere,” Fallon said.

“Nobody,” Darcy echoed. He looked at them. They were both trying not to laugh in his face. 

“Are you drunk?” he said.

“I’m not--” Fallon began.

“--but I am,” Darcy said cheerfully.

“What is going on?” Angela said, emerging from the kitchen. “Did you get the pizza?”

“Your daughter got my girlfriend drunk,” Brock said sternly. He’d taken the pizza away from Fallon.

“Oooooh, I’m in trouble,” Fallon said, between bursts of laughter.

“Sorry, Dad,” Darcy said mirthfully, looking at Brock’s stony expression.

“Does--does he like it when you call him that?” Fallon said in a low voice.

“They _are_ drunk,” Angela said.

“I can’t believe you got Darcy drunk,” Brock said to Fallon. He was eating pizza almost angrily. “I’m over here with goddamned squid and lobster and you’re getting her drunk,” he said, gesturing at Darcy. They were sitting on the couch. 

“Shhhh,” Darcy said, leaning her head against his bicep. “No fussy-fussy.” He’d changed into a tank top and she was enjoying feeling his biceps.

“What are you doing?” he said, looking down at her. 

“Nice arm muscles,” Darcy said. “Pretty tattoos.” Fallon snorted.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” he said to his mother.

“I think I hear a car,” Angela said, “is that Mike?”

“Mike,” Brock grumbled. But it was Mike. He was a very nice accountant, Darcy thought: a sweet-faced blonde in glasses. It was obvious that Angela liked him, too. He shook hands with Brock a little nervously.

“Hi,” Darcy said, when Mike looked at her curiously. “I heard you’re great at math.”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing.

“Pizza?” she offered.

“Fallon got her drunk,” Brock said grimly.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Shots?”

“Limoncello,” Darcy said. “I love it. I’m not sure about tomorrow, though.”

“She’s a lightweight,” Fallon said. “C’mon, I saved you some of your favorite,” she told Mike, pulling him down onto the couch.

“What else are we doing tonight, Ma?” Brock asked. 

“I’m going to season the breading for the calamari,” she said. “And put up the risotto for the arancini.”

“I’ll do all that,” Brock said. “You can stay off your feet.”

“Can I help with anything?” Mike offered, eating a slice.

“Awwww,” Fallon said. “You’re so sweet.” She leaned over and kissed him. Darcy was trying to sneak Princess some of her pizza crust and was surprised when Brock leaned over and kissed the side of her face.

“Finish your pizza,” he told Darcy, “don’t give it all to the dog.”

“Men in the kitchen and us eating pizza on the couch,” Fallon said gleefully.

“I need to remember to tell Jane,” Darcy said. “She’d be proud of me.”

  
  


Darcy went to bed before Brock. She paused on the stairwell and looked at all the family photos. He’d always been good looking, she realized. Even when he had fluffy nineties hair and wore gold chains. Darcy snapped a photo with her phone and sent it to Jane. Jack would be delighted. Then she crawled into bed, still feeling sloshed. She woke up when she felt the bed shake. For a second, she thought she must be incredibly drunk. But then she realized it was Brock. He was jerking off next to her. “Hey,” she said, “why didn’t you wake me?”

“Shit,” he said, halting. “I was trying not wake you, baby.” He looked slightly awkward at being caught. She grinned at him. 

“Lemme help you,” she said, running her hand down his body. He groaned slightly when she rubbed his thigh.

“Just keep doing that,” he said, “that’s feels good. I’m almost there.” 

“Okay,” she said, shifting over on her side so she could touch him. Darcy slid her pajama top over her head. Glancing over, he licked his lips. She massaged his thigh with both hands as he started to move again. Their bodies were barely touching, but the brief sensation of contact as her breasts grazed his shoulder made him suck in air sharply. 

“Jesus,” he said, muscles standing out in his neck. “I’m close, baby.” Darcy was fascinated by the intent expression on his face as he worked himself over. It was clear he liked to watch himself. And that he liked that she was watching, too. His eyes moved from his body to hers and her face and back again. “This is so good,” he said. 

“Uh-huh,” she said. She grinned and pressed her thumbs into his hip muscles and he swore vividly. She knew the exact spot where he complained of muscle tension. He looked at her intensely.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “Don’t stop.” She nodded, digging her thumbs in deeper, until she felt his muscle spasm. Brock jerked when he came and sank back onto the pillow, swearing. He was breathing heavily. Darcy rubbed his arm and he turned his head towards her. His neck was sweaty.

“Shit,” he said. “I got come on you.” Darcy looked down. 

“It’s just my pajamas,” she said. “It’s not like you came in my hair or something and even that might be fun under the right circumstances. I’ll get something to help you clean up--”

“What?” he said, looking dazed. She climbed partially down the bed to get to her bag. His body was slack and she didn’t think he wanted to get up.

“It’s no big deal,” she said, when she’d moved back up his side. She wiped his stomach with a tissue. He was staring at her as she carefully cleaned the grooves in his abdomen. 

“Are you still drunk?” he said. “Or do you actually want me to come in your hair?” His incredulous expression made her feel self-conscious.

“Well, not at your mother’s,” Darcy said, feeling herself blush. “But you’ve been hot enough to talk me into weird sex things since about 1998. I’ve seen the pictures now.” He started to laugh. 

“What other kinds of weird sex things?” he said, cupping her breast and looking sly. She shivered as he massaged her nipple. He stuck his tongue out and raked it over his top lip. Darcy felt her heart rate speed up.

“I dunno,” she said.

“Roll over,” he said, smirking. “Get on your back.” He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. “Don’t move,” he told her, reaching for his pants and shirt. 

“Where are you going?” she said, as he got dressed.

“I’m going to get….something,” he said. He smirked. “From the kitchen.”

“What?” Darcy asked.

“I’ll surprise you,” he said. He pointed. "Absolutely still."

  
  



	5. A Plan Not Even Hallmark Would Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“This is a really fun concert,” Jane admitted, cutting her eyes at Jack. She & Him was halfway through a dreamy-sounding version of “A Marshmallow World.”

“I’d never heard of ‘em, but I reckon she’s cute,” Jack said, appearing to check out Zooey Deschanel. Jane was surprised by the stab of jealousy she felt at his admiration.

“If you like...bangs,” she said, momentarily disoriented.

“Pardon?” Jack said.

“Bangs?” Jane said.

“I don’t follow,” he said. “If I like a what?”

“Bangs,” Jane repeated, “on her forehead.” She patted her own hair. Jack frowned, then grinned.

“Ah, right. We call them fringes back home,” he said.

“Oh,” Jane said, trying to get her equilibrium back. _What am I doing? Bangs? Clearly, I’m going insane,_ she thought. She looked at Jack. He smiled at her. “Jack?” she said.

“Yes?” he said.

“Bangs doesn’t mean something...different in Australia, does it?” she asked.

“It might,” he said. “You never know.” He winked. It could have been his expression. Or the plastic cup of chardonnay she’d had at intermission, but on impulse, Jane leaned over. Jack met her halfway. She’d expected something gentle, maybe hesitant, but this was an eager, impassioned kiss. For a second, Jane completely forgot that she didn’t even like concerts.  
  


***

“I can’t find the mascarpone,” Angela said, peering into the fridge. “Where is it? I swear it was here last night...”

“Mascarpone?” Fallon said, a wicked glint in her eye.

“For the panettone and the tiramisu,” Angela said. “I serve it with the panettone, but I was going to make the tiramisu today.”

“Um, I ate some,” Darcy said, trying to avoid looking at Fallon. Fallon had caught Brock washing their sheets at five am, right after he and Darcy had gotten out of the shower. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll go--” she began apologetically. Brock came into the kitchen, looking calmer than Darcy felt. She gave him a panicked look.

“We ate your raspberries, too, Ma,” he said. “We’ll go get you some more.” Mike was right behind him. They’d de-iced the steps and the driveway for Angela. 

“Did you play with the ladyfingers, too?” Fallon said mirthfully. Brock frowned at her.

“What’s funny? What’d I miss?” Mike asked.

“Food sex,” Fallon mouthed.

“Huh?” Mike said. 

“Darcy, get your coat,” Brock said. It sounded like an order. When she must’ve looked surprised at his tone, he added. “It’s cold out, baby.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, unable to read his expression. Was he upset they’d been busted? She couldn’t tell. She was bundling up when she heard him ask his mother if she needed anything else.

“No,” Angela said. “That’s it.”

“We’re in the hurry up and wait stage,” Fallon said, sounding bored. “We’ll just watch TV until the relatives show up and we start frying things.” Darcy wandered back into the kitchen.

“I have books,” she said.

“She does have books,” Brock said. “A whole damn bag.” 

“I’ll get them,” Darcy said, hurrying upstairs. 

  
  


They were walking to the grocery store when she asked Brock what was wrong. “What do you mean?” he said. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Okay,” Darcy said skeptically. “You don’t seem fine.”

“You thought I was fine last night,” he said, stopping at a crosswalk. His mother had sent him with one of her cooler bags.

“You were definitely in a better mood,” she said, remembering his mouth on her body with a shiver. He looked at her and the unreadable expression on his face transformed into a sly grin.

“Yeah, I was,” he said. He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her. “Let’s get my mother some mascarpone and get my girl some Delillo’s, huh?” he said. He nuzzled her and she leaned in a little, enjoying the scratchy feeling of his stubble against her skin. She closed her eyes for a second, then realized someone at the crosswalk was staring at them

“Okay,” Darcy repeated, trying not to read too much into him calling her ‘his girl.’ It just sounded nice. She could go along with this, just for this nice floaty feeling. Sometimes she felt like she was just being buffered along in life, she thought, as they walked down to the nearest grocery store. She’d kept her job with Jane because she enjoyed it even if it was low-prestige, probably stayed in her relationship with Ian too long, and now she was drifting along holding Brock Rumlow’s hand to buy replacement mascarpone. She giggled.

“What?” he said, opening the door to the grocery store.

“We were so busted!” Darcy said. “Thank you,” she added, because he was holding open the door.

“You need to work on your poker face,” he said, as they walked to the dairy case.

“I can’t lie to moms,” Darcy confessed in a whisper. 

“What about your mom?” he said.

“I’d tell her it was sex mascarpone and she’d think it was funny,” Darcy said.

“I like your mother,” Brock said, grinning.

“Good, because if I brought you home for Christmas, she’d totally pinch your ass,” Darcy said. A woman grabbing a wedge of parmesan stared at them. Brock saw her.

“Take a picture, Donati, it’ll last longer,” he said sharply. 

“You got nerve, showing your face,” she said. “Finally decided to visit your mother? We all assumed you were dead.” Darcy looked between them, torn on whether she should be upset about the dead jibe or just entertained.

“You missed me, huh?” he said, putting his arm around Darcy. “I know it’ll break your heart, but I’m off the market, Carla.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” she told Brock. She flipped him the bird. 

“Oh em gee, you know her?” Darcy said, as the woman moved away, glaring.

“Yes,” he said. “We were in third grade together.” He smirked. “She totally wanted me.”

“Not in third grade!” Darcy said, laughing. He was so cocky sometimes.

“Oh, yeah, no. That was later. Where are you going?” he asked, as Darcy saw something on a shelf. She moved off automatically, slipping out from his embrace. “You wander off like a toddler, you know that?” he teased.

“Shut up, I’m getting Fallon a surprise,” Darcy said.

“Kids cereal?” he asked, as she took down the seasonal flavor from the shelf.

“We both like it, she told me this morning,” she said to him.

“I had fun this morning,” he said in a low voice, leaning in close to her ear.

“Yup,” she agreed. “You totally want me.” Brock laughed.

“I do,” he said. “You wanna sneak off tonight?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Coffee first.” He nodded and carried her cereal, the mascarpone, and some raspberries to the register. She followed him. 

It was crowded at Delillo’s, so Darcy thought they would leave immediately. Instead, he insisted they stay. “What about the mascarpone?” she asked. He shrugged.

“It’s in the bag, eat your cornetto,” Brock said.

“You spoil me,” she joked. He grinned. “Your sister says you’re spoiled,” she amended. Brock smirked.

“She’s jealous because I’ve been able to get out of these,” he said.

“Are they that bad?” Darcy said. “It seems….fun so far?”

“You’re an innocent,” he told her. He was bumped by an older man looking for a chair. “You need a chair?” Brock said. “C’mere, baby,” he gestured to Darcy. “Take hers. You can sit in my lap, sweetheart,” he said.

“I’m sitting in your lap now?” Darcy whispered, after the man had taken her chair over to another table. 

“You bothered?” he said. He sat with his knees wide apart, bracketing the outside of her thighs. 

“No,” she said, leaning back against him and wishing she didn’t like it quite so much. It was easier to remember they were just fuck buddies when he wasn’t rubbing her shoulders as she drank espresso. But everything would go back to normal when they got back to DC, right? This was just...something else. A vacation with slightly unreal contours. She was in Little Italy, pretending to have a serious boyfriend, eating cornettos. It was a like a play. Or Disney. She shouldn’t think about reality too---suddenly, she felt a warm sensation against her neck. “What are you doing?” Darcy said, realizing Brock was kissing her.

“I don’t wanna go back,” he said in a low voice. He’d pushed her hair aside and tucked down her jacket collar to press his mouth to her neck and the shell of her ear.

“If you keep making a scene, Carla Donati is gonna come in here and stab me with her heel,” Darcy joked, leaning into him and trying not to sigh in bliss. She didn’t move, though. They stayed there until Fallon called, asking if they had gone to milk a cow for the mascarpone.

“Wiseass,” Brock said into the phone. “We’ll be right there. Darcy got you a surprise.”

“Yay!” Darcy heard Fallon said through the phone. 

“We gotta go,” Brock said, when he’d hung up. “But we won’t stay long, all right?”

“I’m taking Darcy somewhere,” Brock announced, as soon as they walked in. He had to say it over the sound of Princess’s barking.

“What?” Fallon said. “You’re leaving?” She and Mike were on the couch.

“Here’s your surprise,” Darcy said, handing Fallon the red box. Mike laughed.

“Sugar Cookie Toast Crunch?” he said.

“Shut up, I love it,” Fallon said. She called over to Angela in the kitchen. “Darcy got me elf cereal!”

“That’s nice, thank you,” Angela said, appearing at the edge of the living room in her apron.

“You’re welcome,” Darcy said politely.

“Can I have a word with you?” Angela said to Brock. “Alone?”

“Sure, Ma,” he said. He glanced back at Darcy as he followed his mother upstairs. “Be right back, don’t take your coat off.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, uncertain. When they were gone, she looked at Fallon and Mike. “What did I do?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mike said. Fallon was opening the cereal.

“You’re fine,” she said. “She’s probably telling him she wants grandchildren for Christmas.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, sighing. She was doubtful.

“Why don’t we have some?” Mike said to Fallon.

“She’d die if I got pregnant without being married,” Fallon said. She tossed some cereal in her mouth. “But”---her mouth was full of sugar cookie cereal--”it might make me the favorite if we went ahead and did it.”

“I’m glad your priorities are in order,” Mike said dryly. 

“What?” Fallon said, rolling her head back to look at him. “I love you, I’m totally hot, we’d make kids who were beautiful and smart, we should do it.”

“You think so?” Mike said, smiling. Then he looked serious. 

“What are you thinking about?” Fallon asked. She looked at Darcy. “It’s something financial,” Fallon told her. “It always is.”

“I wonder if I could move CDs into a college education account?” Mike wondered.

“See?” Fallon said. “All my CDs are Sarah McLachlan.” 

“There’s another kind of CD?” Darcy said. Fallon and Mike laughed at that one. The couple continued debating kids’ stuff, so Darcy sat down, petted Princess, and texted Jane.

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** How was the concert?

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Great. It was great.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Jane, what are you not saying?

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Um, I slept with Jack.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** What?

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** It--things spiraled, okay? He smiles at me. There was a whole thing about bangs.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** What?

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** It’s too weird to explain. But I really like him.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Yay! I’m so happy for you. He’s crazy about you, Janeybug.

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Yeah, I know.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** How?

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** He says it every five minutes and twice when I’m naked.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** LMAO.

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** Darce, I think this could actually work. Really work. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Good.

 **Let’s Get Astro-Physical:** I feel giddy.

“You ready to go?” Brock said suddenly. Darcy looked up. She hadn’t realized that he’d come downstairs. Angela was disappearing into the kitchen. Darcy couldn’t see her face.

“Yeah, okay,” Darcy said. “Bye, guys,” she told Fallon and Mike. 

“Be back tonight, Ma!” Brock called as they left the house. “We’re catching the subway at 180th street,” he told Darcy as they walked.

“Okay,” she said. “Jack and Jane are dating.”

“Good,” he said, nodding at someone he recognized. “It’s about fucking time he made a move.” 

“Is everything okay with your mom?” Darcy asked.

“Sure,” he said. “You’ll like this subway station, culture nerd.” He smirked. “The outside looks like Europe.”

“Very funny,” Darcy said, still wondering what had happened upstairs. But he was right about the subway station: the building’s exterior looked like a palazzo. “I didn’t know there were, um, outdoor subway lines?” she said, as they got on a train. 

“This place is just old,” he said, sitting down. “C’mere.” She sat in his lap until they reached the 5th Avenue station in Manhattan. He didn’t talk much, but he rubbed her hip in a distracting way and smirked at her whenever she made eye contact.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Where are we going?” Darcy asked, when they exited the station and got to street level.

“I’m taking you to look at the Christmas windows,” he said. 

“Oh,” she said. “Great.” 

“And maybe we should go to a jewelry store, because my mother thinks I should propose,” he said. Darcy stared at him. Was he joking? “You’re gonna have to be the one who ditches me, though,” he added. “I’ve decided that’s how we pull this thing off. You’ve gotta turn me down and break my heart.”

“Very funny,” she said, feeling all flustered. “Stop joking,” she told Brock.

“You don’t wanna be the girl who got away?” he said, smirking.

“Ughhhh, you cannot expect me to--just shut up and let me enjoy the Christmas windows!” she said. Darcy fumed inwardly as they walked up and down Fifth Avenue with the crowds. She only calmed down once they’d gotten to an oddly soothing snow scene in a little window and she’d taken photos for her mom and Jane. Her hands had shaken a little. She looked at Brock. “You really want to do that?” she asked in a low voice. “You want to--to do that, ask that, and me to say no?” She couldn’t actually get the words out. He inhaled and looked serious.

“Yeah,” he said. “This is your fault, really, you’ve been too fucking nice and now they like you--” he said. A woman with kids glared at him for swearing.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “I cannot believe you’re being serious.”

“It’s the perfect solution,” Brock said, as she turned and made to march down the street. “Darcy, stop,” he said, grabbing her arm.

“What?” she said, feeling wildly irritated.

“This is Tiffany’s,” he said. “Let’s go in.”

“I am so mad at you right now,” she said, as they went through the revolving door.

“What do you like?” he asked, as they walked around the store. It was crowded. And beautiful. The glass cases sparkled and the decor blended modern elements and expensive lighting. But Darcy mostly registered her own frustration with the man next to her. 

“If I’m just going to say no, what does it matter?” she shot back. He laughed and she wanted to punch him.

“Yellow diamond?” he said, leaning against a counter. “Hey, pal, you have any yellow ones? Engagement rings?” he jokingly asked a salesman. He’d put on his accent more strongly than normal. The salesman looked at him in surprise.

“I hate yellow diamonds and this is a stupid plan. I didn’t agree to be this bad,” Darcy said in a heated whisper. “This is my limit, okay? Do you hear me?” He so didn’t hear her. He was too busy studying a tray that the salesman reluctantly brought out. 

“Whaddya think, sweetheart?” Brock said. He held up a glittering ring. It had a canary yellow stone in the center.

“No yellow,” Darcy said.

“If she ditches me before we get married, can I return it?” Brock asked, smirking. 

“I believe you can, sir,” the salesman said reluctantly. 

“I need a minute,” Darcy told Brock. Brock looked at her. 

“What’s wrong?” Brock said.

“Do you have a ladies room?” Darcy asked the salesman. He directed her. But she didn’t go that way. Instead, she wandered around the store, trying to quell her upset. She couldn’t pinpoint what was bugging her, but she had a knot in her stomach and a queasy feeling. Finding a bench, she sat down and called Jane.

“Hello!” Jane said brightly. “How are you?” There was noise in the background.

“Hi, Jane,” Darcy said. “I’m sitting here wondering if Brock is a terrible idea factory?”

“He is, love,” Jack’s voice cut in.

“We’re moving, we’re moving--” Jane said brightly.

“What’s going on?” Darcy said.

“We’re in line to do a private gingerbread tour at the White House, Jack knows a Senator! It’s a small group tour!” she said.

“I just pulled ‘im out of the way of a protestor with a can of red paint once,” Jack said. “But he’s very generous.”

“I bet it was an expensive suit whose life you saved,” Jane said. She sounded giddy--and delighted.

“You got her to leave the lab?” Darcy said, shocked. Jack laughed. 

“There’s a gingerbread model of the planets this year,” Jane said. 

“Sounds cute,” Darcy said.

“I’m excited,” Jane said. Darcy decided to let them go. She wished them a happy tour, told Jane she’d send her photos of Fifth Avenue, and hung up. She couldn’t bring herself to call her mother. Her mom had been supportive all throughout her crazy internships, Ian, everything. But this was a bridge too far. Darcy sighed. That left her alone with her thoughts. Why was she panicking over Brock’s ridiculous plan? She imagined turning down a marriage proposal--even a fake one--with his family present and felt guilty. That would be cruel to do them. On a holiday, too.

“Hey,” Brock said, appearing suddenly. He looked worried. “There you are. I am so sorry, baby. I fucked up,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I still feel like this is a plan not even Hallmark would okay--” she was saying, when he knelt down and took her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t even think about fucking Boothby and how it might make you upset.” 

“What?” Darcy said. She wasn’t thinking about Ian. She never thought about Ian. “I just--I can’t say no to a marriage proposal and ruin someone’s Christmas.”

“Oh,” Brock said. He was looking at her seriously.

“Think about me saying no with everyone there,” she told him. “Your mother would just be standing right there and I would be the horrible woman who humiliated you,” she added slowly. He paused, inhaled, then frowned.

“Yeah,” he said. “Fuck.” He sat next to her. They were both quiet. “Did he give you a yellow diamond or some shit?” Brock asked. Darcy realized he was still holding her hand.

“No, he didn’t. He gave me this dinky little heirloom---wait,” Darcy said.

“What is it?” Brock said.

“Are you absolutely on board with this idea?” she asked.

“Not if it will upset you,” he said, “fuck, I’m sorry. Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Darcy said. “I’m not upset about Ian. I just don’t want to make a big scene and ruin Christmas for everyone and have your sister hate me. I have a better idea. You can thank Ian for it.”

“What?” Brock said, looking baffled. Darcy stood up.

“Let’s find that salesman,” she said. 

They went downstairs. Darcy found the reluctant salesman. “Do you have any very small rings?” she asked.

“Small rings?” he said. His idea of small engagement rings was one carat, Darcy discovered. She sighed.

“It’s too bad we can’t snag a blue box and put a promise ring in it, because that would enhance the effect,” she told Brock in a low voice, as she looked around the store for something small.

“Explain what’s happening to me?” Brock said. 

“You asked me about my ring from Ian,” she said. He frowned. 

“Yeah?” he said. 

“He didn’t buy me a new ring. It was an heirloom and it was horrible,” she said. “Tiny and ugly. I would show it to people and they would just cringe. Most people tried to be nice, but it was so awful.”

“I don’t understand,” Brock said.

“You give me a terrible ring, people are going to expect us to fight,” Darcy said. “Engagement rings are a minefield. You wouldn’t believe the number of women who flat-out told me they’d dump Ian unless he got me a real ring,” she said, putting the last two words in air quotes. “So, this is the way we break up. You give me something dinky and sad, people feel awkward, but we don’t ruin Christmas--”

“What?” Brock said.

“I'm not the bad guy in this scenario,” she told him. “Or, no, we’re mutually incompatible and rushed into things. Nobody’s the bad guy. I like that better. You felt pressured to propose, I think the cheap-looking ring is a sign of your non-commitment to me, you admit that maybe that’s true, we fight and breakup right after Christmas. So,” she said. “Smarter to say we rushed into it, we’re having difficulties, you’re heartbroken--”

“We could be on and off,” he said, smirking. “You’re dramatic--”

“I’m dramatic?” she said. “I am not as dramatic as you. This is your crazy life plan.” He ignored that, grinning, and kept talking.

“--you’re dramatic, but I can’t stop going back to you. And I can’t bear the idea of being set up with other women or people talking about settling down within earshot,” he said, sounding triumphant. “Fuck, that’s perfect.” Darcy could tell the salesman was eavesdropping, which was funny. His face kept twitching.

She vetoed Tiffany’s as too nice; Brock agreed. They went to a less expensive store. “This is a good one,” she announced, looking down into a glass case. There was a small ring. Lab-created sapphire. A little promise ring.

“That is not an engagement ring,” Brock said.

“It’s a tiny ring, it’s the perfect ring for this job,” Darcy said. “The whole point is that it not look expensive. It’s forty dollars.”

“It’s a kid’s ring. I would never pick that,” he said. “This has to be plausible.”

“Okay,” she said. “What would you pick for a fake engagement?”

“You set on something blue?” Brock asked.

“Just tell me what you’d pick,” she sassed him. He wandered down the row of glass cases. She followed him, curious.

“This one,” he said. He pointed down. It was a champagne pink morganite set with a spray of diamonds in a feminine setting.

“We’re supposed to be looking for an obviously cheap ring, remember?” she told him. “This looks like a good ring,” she added. “It’s not right for the plan. And it’s over three hundred dollars.”

“I like it,” he said. “It’s the one.”

“You used to like gold chains,” she said, “I’ve seen the pictures.”

“Yeah.” He clearly wasn't going to be distracted. “Can we see this on?” he said to a salesperson. Darcy tried it on. It was pretty. She looked down at it and back at Brock. “This is it,” he repeated. He was so certain, it threw her for a loop. “We’ll take it,” he said.

“Are you really sure about this?” Darcy asked, as the salesperson got one in her size.“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a good plan. The ring’s on sale. You like this champagne pink color, you told me pink champagne tasted better.”

“I was wasted!” Darcy said. She was torn between laughter and surprise. “We were drinking cheap champagne from Trader Joe’s on my couch, naked and talking about this trip,” she reminded him in a low voice. “This was supposed to be a forty buck thing.”

“You wanna do this now or wait until Christmas?” he asked.

“What?” she said. He shook his head.

“We’ll go to a restaurant or something,” he said. “Stage it. You don’t know how to lie, so I can’t propose in front of my family.”

“Tonight?” Darcy said. “Right now?” The salesperson was coming back with the ring and he took out his wallet.

“You can keep the ring,” he added. “I forgot to buy you a Christmas present, but this works. Where'd Fish and Chips pop the question?” he asked. Darcy looked at Brock in surprise. Then she remembered.

“In a park, during a picnic,” she said, frowning. “It was drizzling and there were bugs. He didn't even bring the ugly ring, just asked me if I'd thought about the future while I was trying to eat crackers and cheese.” 

Brock took her to a dimly lit restaurant. “We’ll take a photo to send to my mother,” he said. Darcy went to the bathroom to make sure that her hair and makeup were okay. Her reflection looked stunned. She reapplied her lipstick and wondered if she was a terrible person. Finally, she had to go back to the table. “I ordered champagne,” Brock told her, pouring a glass. “You feel like dessert?” He looked pleased.

“Why are you so happy?” she asked. 

“This is the right solution,” he said. “We're the on and off couple who can't live together or something.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “That seems...realistic.” He got up. “Where are you going?”

“Ring goes in the dessert,” he said. “Which one do you want? Chocolate cake?”

“Oh, man,” she said. “Even fake, this is better than Ian’s proposal, I'm starting to get a little pissed.” Brock laughed. She watched him walk over to the hostess. The ring was in his pocket. He said something and the hostess smiled broadly. He looked like he was charming her. Then she led him towards the kitchen and Darcy couldn't see him anymore.

He came back with a smile. “It's in the cake,” he said. Darcy nodded. She felt butterflies when the waitress appeared. “Relax,” Brock said.

“Shut up,” she muttered. It wasn't easy to fake, Darcy realized, grateful that Brock had the idea. People watched them avidly when he tilted his head and pretended to ask. She tried to beam at him lovingly. “My face hurts,” Darcy said eventually. He texted his mother as Darcy stared at her finger. “It is nice,” she admitted. “The ring.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said, drinking champagne. “Eat your cake.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. Brock watched her as she ate dessert. He kept grinning. “What?” she said.

“I want a fucking hotel room,” he said in a low voice. 

“You're not freaked out?” Darcy asked.

“No,” he said, licking his lips. His expression was intense. Sex face, she realized.

“You get a subway ride and your childhood bedroom in the Bronx,” she told him. “When’s the last train?”

“Fuck,” he muttered. He picked up his phone. “Mike’ll come and get us.”

Darcy was buzzed and kissing Brock on the sidewalk when Mike and Fallon pulled up to get them. A laughing Brock hustled her into the car. “We’re blocking traffic,” Brock said. Horns honked around them.

“You’re engaged!” Fallon shrieked. 

“I’m sparkly,” Darcy said, waving her finger.

“It’s pink!” Fallon yelled.

“He picked it out,” Darcy blabbed.

“Shut up,” Fallon said. “You picked it out?”

“Yeah, so?” he said. Brock looked at Darcy. “Buckle your seatbelt,” he said, then did it for her. 

“Congratulations,” Mike said, as the car moved.

“Thanks, brother,” Brock said to him. He sounded almost warm, Darcy thought. Brock rubbed her thigh and started kissing her neck again.

“Is your mom going to freak?” Darcy said.

“Oh my God, she’s so excited. She’s been calling everybody to tell them,” Fallon said. “Oh, gross, get your tongue off her in Mike’s backseat.”

“No,” he murmured, mouth on Darcy’s ear. Darcy started to giggle. 

“Lemme see the ring again,” Fallon asked Darcy. She held her hand out. Fallon snapped a photo of them. “This is going online,” she said gleefully. “My idiot brother tricked a girl into liking him and bought a pink ring?”

“Shut up, Fal,” Brock said, sitting back. He was breathing a little rapidly. He looked at Darcy. “She loves me,” he said. Darcy felt weirdly dizzy when he looked at her like that, even if it was a lie. They were passing the Museum of the City of New York on Madison when her phone started to ping. Darcy realized Fallon had tagged her in the post about their engagement. Suddenly, it dawned on her that her mother would see the post and know. “You okay?” Brock said.

“Stop and go traffic and champagne,” Darcy lied, silencing her phone. She’d deal with it later. First, she had to face Angela Rumlow and seem happy and normal. Had she lost her mind?

They paused outside the house. Brock stopped to kiss her next to the car and squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “She’ll be happy.” He was whispering. Fallon and Mike were a few feet ahead of them.

“I’m so nervous,” Darcy said back. 

“C’mon, you idiots, you’re going to freeze!” Fallon yelled. Darcy took a deep breath and followed Brock into the house. As soon as they walked in, Angela threw her arms around them. It looked like she’d been waiting by the door. The dog was barking. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” Angela said, “I still have my apron on, I got flour on your clothes!”

“Did you want to see the ring?” Darcy asked carefully, trying to remember how this went when she’d been doing it for real.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Angela said, sounding dazed.

“I picked it out,” Brock said.

“He did,” Darcy said. Her heart hurt at the delighted look that Angela gave Brock. She was relieved when Brock hustled her upstairs because he wanted some “alone time.”

“He was all over her in the car,” Fallon snarked as they went upstairs.

“Shhh,” Angela said. “I can’t believe he’s engaged!”

  
  


“C’mon, baby, we can do this,” Brock said. “It’ll be good.” He was laying in bed as she sat next to his shoulder, totally naked. Darcy tested the headboard, shaking it a little. Was it stable?

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” she told him.

“I’m not gonna suffocate,” he said, chuckling and running a hand across her hip and down her knee. Darcy scoffed, even as his touch made her shiver.

“I don’t mean that,” she said, “I didn’t think that. I’m worried about neck injury. What if I fall on you and you get hurt somehow?” She bit her lip. “Neck injuries are bad--

“Darcy,” he said. “Sit on my fucking face.” His expression was stubborn.

“Okay,” she said, torn between nervousness and excitement. She tried to shift over him carefully.

“Without breaking my nose with your knee,” Brock said, in an amused voice, holding her thigh, as she put her knee on the other side of his head. 

“Shit, sorry, this is what I mean--” she said. Darcy was gripping the metal bars of the headboard with both hands. Her knuckles were white against the sparkle of her ring, she realized. 

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ll tell everyone it wasn’t your fault when they give me that little Stephen Hawking keyboard and I can talk again,” he joked. “We just celebrated our engagement too hard.”

“Shut up,” Darcy squeaked. He coaxed her lower, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her down gently. She was sweating and trembling. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said. He studied her, then his eyes went to her face. “You look good from this angle,” he teased. His expression was hungry. That was more than enough to make her feel weak. Then he stuck his tongue out in an obnoxious way, smirking at her. He was just trying to irk her, dammit. 

“Shut up, you smug---” she began, then stuttered. The first touch of his tongue felt incredible. “Oh my God,” Darcy said. “Oh my God.” 

“Mmmm,” he said, arching his neck to suck on her clit. The sensation was so intense that she gasped. She had to lean forward, pressing her forehead against the metal headboard. She felt out of control. It was just him. All him. “You’re fucking shaking,” Brock said wryly, after her first orgasm. His hands stroked her thighs.

“Don’t--don’t stop,” she said, when she could finally make words. He laughed and licked his lips again. 

“I’m not gonna,” he said. He had to help her off him afterwards and she sank into the bed on her stomach, breathing heavily. “You okay?” he said, studying her face. 

“I feel like--like I don’t know,” she said. He laughed and moved behind her.

“Happy?” he said, kissing her back. He trailed kisses over her skin.

“Like cooked noodles,” she said, grasping for the only metaphor that occurred to her sex-dazed mind. She felt soft and boneless. Like she could melt into the sheets. She didn’t want to move. But he was still hard. Maybe he would just fuck her into the mattress, she thought. “Don’t make me move,” she told him, turning to look at him. He was grinning. “You can do anything if I don’t have to move.” That really made him laugh.

“You’ve been very good,” he said, “so I won’t,” he said, shifting her hips for a better angle. “I’m just gonna move you,” he said, pushing inside her. 


	6. Merry Christmas, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Shit,” Brock said to her the next morning. He was looking out the bedroom window. 

“What?” Darcy said, lifting her head to squint at him until she found her glasses on the nightstand. “Is something wrong?”

“My aunt and uncle are here--Anita and Jimmy. She’s a nice woman, but he’s a total pain in the ass,” Brock said. He glared through the curtains. “It’s six in the fucking morning on the 23rd and they’re here already,” he added. 

“The politics one?” Darcy said, yawning.

“Fallon will bait him,” Brock said glumly. 

“Oh, fun times.” At Darcy’s sound of mirth, he turned back and gave her a look. 

“Don’t encourage her,” he said. “It only makes him worse.”

“What if I tell him I’m engaged to Fallon?” she joked. “Or Fallon  _ and _ Mike?”

“No,” Brock said. “You’re engaged to me and nobody else.” He sat on the bed to put his shoes on. She realized his hair was wet, too.

“You showered without me?” she said, feeling slightly pouty about it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Fallon put an article about the dangers of shower sex in the damn bathroom.”

“Really?” Darcy said. “Should we stretch first? What are the dangers?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m using the damn grab bar,” he muttered. He lapsed into silence as he put his shoes on. He was being all cryptic. Darcy hadn’t seen that in awhile. Brock sighed. “I forgot to use a damn condom last night, too. I don’t know where my mind’s at--” he said.

“It’s okay,” Darcy interrupted, squeezing his shoulders. He was clearly in a mood. “We’re fine, unless you have an STI you’ve forgotten to mention?” She kept her voice light.

“No,” he said, looking back at her with an unreadable expression. “We’re fine,” he said, then he rubbed his jaw. “I haven’t boxed in days, that’s what’s fucking wrong with me. I need exercise to function.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, as he stood up. She grinned at the thought that bubbled up. He turned and caught the look on her face.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing,” she said. “It just occurred to me that if you’re not more careful, we could end up being on and off for, oh, eighteen years.” He blinked at her. “That was a joke, you’re supposed to laugh,” Darcy added. He’d gone still and was just looking at her. “You remember jokes, right?” she said. “There’s no way I’m actually pregnant, okay? I’m on the pill. Which I take responsibly. And I know about the antibiotics interactions and stuff. Calm down.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m calm. I’m calm.”

“You don’t look calm,” she said. He grimaced.

“I’ll go make you some coffee, it’s going to be crazy down there,” he said.

“Go find a gym!” Darcy called after him. “You need it!” She thought she could handle one obnoxious uncle alone, if she had Fallon for backup. Brock clearly need to sweat and hit some stuff. She told him that when he brought her coffee.

“You’re letting me leave?” he said. “You don’t mind?”

“You need this, honey,” she said. She put on a fake-sweet voice. “What my baby needs, my baby gets.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. But he thought he looked relieved. “I’ll be back soon,” he said. He kissed her gently, paused at the door, and seemed to want to say something. But he didn’t. He just swallowed, nodded, then left. 

“Well,” Darcy said to herself, “he’s back on his weird.” She looked at her phone and sighed. She needed to call her mom and tell her what was going on. She dialed. “Hey, mom,” she said, when her mother answered.

“Honey!” Liz Lewis said, sounding excited. “We saw the photos! He proposed? I’m so happy for you!”

“You’re happy?” Darcy said, dumbfounded.

“Of course I am. Tom and I are so happy for you,” her mother said, referring to her boyfriend. “This is exciting. It was a surprise, right? You told me you didn’t think he was that serious about the relationship?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “I didn’t think he was serious.” She felt weird butterflies in her stomach. Her mom laughed.

“Oh, I knew when he wanted to take you home, sweetie,” she said breezily. “You just aren’t confident enough in yourself, but people love you, Darcy. I don’t understand how you don’t see it. You’re so smart and so accomplished and so pretty, how could he not love you?”

“Sure, Mom,” Darcy said. “You have to say that.”

“You never believe me when I tell you things.” Liz sounded joyful. “Send me pictures of the ring! Is it pink?” she asked.

“Yup, I actually like it. He picked it, but I like it a lot,” Darcy said, looking at her finger. She laughed. 

“What?” Liz said.

“Apparently, I once got tipsy and insisted pink champagne tastes better than regular and that’s what made him think this was the ring for me,” she told her mother.

“That sounds like you,” Liz said. “You’ve always been a pink person.”

“I am?” Darcy said.

“Even when you were little, you always liked feminine things,” her mom said. “You refused to watch  _ Star Wars  _ because it was too brown and brown was a yucky boy color!” Liz was laughing.

“I like brown a little more now,” Darcy said.

“Someone has brown eyes, doesn’t he?” Liz said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

Darcy took a quick shower and scrunched her damp hair. She was contemplating going downstairs with wet hair and a bare face, then decided that was the wrong first impression as a newly fake-engaged person. She remembered putting in a lot of effort when she met Ian’s family. She’d been excited then. Or trying to be excited. She diffused her hair and put on red lipstick and decided on a cute sweater with her leggings and boots, instead. She wanted to look nice. Darcy was headed downstairs quietly when she heard voices. A woman she didn’t recognize was saying, “--so, she’s not Catholic?”

“No, Aunt Anita,” Fallon said. “Mike’s not, either.”

“But Mike’s such a wonderful person,” Angela said, sounding a little defensive. Darcy knew why a second later.

“Still, Fal’s not married yet, Brock’s pushing fifty, when are you getting yourselves some kids?” a grating male voice said. “Neither of you getting any younger. Time to grow up. Your mother needs grandchildren--”

“Hi,” Darcy said, interjecting herself into this awkward moment. “Good morning.” The older man at the table looked up from his focus on Fallon, saw her, and whistled.

“Well, I see it now. Say no more,” he said. He held his hands up. “He found himself a real stunner. Say no more.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “You first.” The sarcasm just slipped out. Fallon snorted. Darcy was worried that she might’ve upset Angela, but Angela’s expression was almost triumphant. She hid it quickly.

“Jimmy,” Angela said, sounding stern. “Don’t embarrass my son’s fiancée.”

“No offense intended,” he said. “Because God knows, the man likes to hit things.”

“He does,” Darcy said. Fallon put her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter. 

“Brock picked out the ring,” Angela said, clearly talking to the new woman at the table. Darcy held up her hand.

“Can I see? You’re a very pretty girl,” she said, in a sweetly shy voice. This must be nice Aunt Anita, Darcy thought. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, trying to sound genuine.

“She has beautiful curls,” Anita told Angela. ”You didn’t tell us how nice her hair is. Think of how pretty the children will be.” Darcy moved over to let the woman look at her hand. 

“Yes,” Angela said. 

“It’s a beautiful ring! Pink, how romantic,” Anita said.

“Pink, huh?” Jimmy said. Fallon rolled her eyes at his tone. “That cheaper than a regular diamond?”

“I like this color, it’s one of my favorites,” Darcy said. She must’ve shot him a look. Fallon’s eyes had widened before she grinned. 

“Mine, too,” Angela said. “As everybody can tell.” That cut some of the tension. 

Uncle Jimmy was lecturing a newly-awake Mike in the living room about immigration, so Darcy and Fallon decided--purely through significant glances and tiny head shakes--to help Anita and Angela. “I brought  _ nepitelle, _ ” Anita said.

“She makes the best  _ nepitelle.  _ You’ll love them,” Angela said. “She has a sweet tooth, Brock put the ring in cake.” The last part was directed at Anita.

“Cake?” Anita said. “Oh, that's nice.” She was sincere, Darcy thought. The kind of woman who was clearly delighted whenever someone she knew had a birthday, graduated from high school, or got a new job.

“Champagne and cake, Aunt Nita. We have pictures,” Fallon said. 

“Ooh,” Anita said, smiling widely. Darcy began to feel embarrassed at Anita and Angela’s beaming faces. “Look at her blush, Angie!” Anita said. It was weird to hear that Brock’s mother had a nickname, too.

“Okay, okay,” Darcy said, doing her best Joe Pesci  _ Lethal Weapon  _ impression. “Somebody tell me about  _ nepitelle _ before I turn all pink, too.” Angela seemed to smile at the way she waved her hands as she said it. 

“They’re little pastries filled with walnuts, figs, chocolate, and booze,” Fallon cracked.

“Oh good, all of my fave things,” Darcy said. 

“I haven’t baked them yet,” Anita said. 

“We do that tonight,” Angela explained. “That’s done, the _insalata_ \--” she said, clearly listing things in her head. She ticked off items on her finger and then consulted a list on the fridge.

“Do you want to see?” Anita said. When Darcy nodded, she proudly brought over a tray. The little half moon pastries were really cute. Darcy said so. Anita beamed in delight. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Darcy said.

“Thank you,” Angela said to Darcy when Anita went to the bathroom. “That will make her whole week.” She cut her eyes towards the living room. “She gets no support, God help her. She was my husband’s favorite sister,” Angela added. “Johnny loved her.”

“Brock’s father was named Johnny? Johnny Rumlow?” Darcy said. She’d seen his photo in the hallway. He looked like Brock, only his eyes were blue.

“Yeah,” Angela said. “Why?”

“Because you’d just have to marry someone that cute named Johnny Rumlow,” Darcy said, half-seriously. “I’ve seen the pictures and the blue eyes.” Angela laughed.

“He did have good eyes,” she admitted, sighing. Fallon scoffed.

“It sounds like the name of a James Dean character. Or Marlon Brando when he was young,” Darcy said. “Johnny Rumlow.”

“Ma,” Fallon said, “this is how he snagged her. She’s just gullible.” 

***

Brock was walking to the nearest boxing gym when his phone rang. It was Jack. “Congratulations, mate!” he said as soon as Brock answered. 

“Hey, Jack,” Brock said. He was opening his mouth to explain that the engagement wasn’t real when Jack spoke again

“I knew it! I told Jane you were crazy about her,” Jack said. “Reckon it took you long enough.”

“Jane knows about that?” he asked. He meant Jack’s frequent claim that Brock did more with Darcy than he would if things were really casual between them. Brock had made the mistake of mentioning they had dinner together and hung out. Jack refused to get it, no matter how much Brock had insisted that their dynamic was strictly a  _ friends who fuck _ situation. When they first slept together, she’d been perfectly cool with keeping things quiet. Even said it would be fun, a new experience for her after Boothby. Brock shook his head. Jack obviously didn’t understand being friends with a woman. Darcy had never asked him for more than sex and pizza, but they were obviously friends. They’d never even argued. 

“She saw the post, mate. Everybody at work knows you’re engaged,” Jack said. Brock stopped and stared at the phone. 

“Everyone at work knows?” he said, stunned. Brock realized that he and Darcy hadn’t discussed what she wanted to tell Jane, much less their fucking coworkers. He didn’t want to say anything that would contradict Darcy or upset her later. He could be vague. 

“Sound a little more enthusiastic, mate,” Jack scolded.

“My relatives are showing up, I got stuff going on up here,” Brock groused. “I’m happy, all right? You want to hear how your girlfriend’s assistant made me happy last night, you fucking kangaroo?” Jack laughed.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, sounding unaccountably pleased.

“Yeah?” Brock said, nodding at a guy on the sidewalk. He looked familiar. Probably someone he knew from high school or some shit. 

“It’s about time we both got lives, innit?” Jack said. “Past time.”

“Sure,” Brock said. “I just didn’t think about other people.”

“Romanoff wants to know where you’re registered,” Jack added.

“Registered?” Brock said.

“Presents, mate,” Jack said. “People want to buy you bloody gifts.”

“Well, shouldn’t Romanoff know?” Brock joked. “I thought she knew everything?” But that got Brock thinking: would Darcy be interested in continuing the engagement ruse in DC? It had been on his mind all morning. Especially when she joked about being on and off for eighteen years. He got off the phone with Jack, still preoccupied. They could extend this thing for a few weeks, so it seemed more natural. Couldn’t they? He kept thinking as he worked with a bag.  _ Thwack.  _ He tested out suggesting it in his mind. Maybe he could pitch it as a gift thing?  _ Thwack.  _ If she went along with it, he could be the one who called off the fictional wedding and she could keep all the gifts?  _ Thwack.  _ There might be things she wanted, after all. Kitchen shit or something. He’d been trying to make sure he at least did things better than Boothby, even if it was just for show. A decent ring that was new, a better location for the proposal.  _ Thwack.  _ Boothby had been a shitty fiancé, Brock had realized, from what Darcy said about him. Cheap and unromantic, it sounded like. Maybe Darcy wanted some good fucking towels or something. She deserved nice things. He still couldn't believe she had been game to be dragged up here. And he'd had a better time with her. The sex--always incredible--was actually improving. He thought being affectionate in public had made them fuck better, somehow. They were in a good groove. He knew that feeling from work. When things were going your way, you felt it. He didn’t want to pretend to fight with her if it was avoidable. He almost snorted out loud, trying to imagine fighting with Darcy.

It was fucking hilarious that she seemed more worried that his mother would dislike her. His mother had cornered him before they left yesterday to encourage him to commit. “Don’t let this girl slip away,” Angela had said. “I can see how well you get along, how good you are together.” He’d had to bite his tongue to keep from admitting that they got along because they weren’t really together. Then his mother had gone further: “You should propose, honey, if this is how things always are between you.” He’d nodded again, feeling surprised, then had the subway ride to think about his strategy. How could they handle this? The engagement plan had blossomed in his mind as the natural solution. He could ask, she could say no, problem solved. He just hadn’t accounted for Darcy’s lingering emotions about Boothby. She’d been upset because of the Englishman, he was sure, even if she tried to cover for it. And she disliked the idea of making a scene with his family. Understandable. So, it had to be long-term, he realized, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. An extended operation. He hit the bag and imagined telling people at work they were engaged. Putting his arm around her and saying he’d asked over Christmas in New York. The shy way she ducked her head against his shoulder. Having an excuse to touch her in public.

He was sweating, but his head felt clear. He'd always had his best ideas in the gym.

***

Darcy heard Brock come back as they were working in the kitchen. “Hey, Ma--” he began, then caught sight of Darcy in one of his mother’s aprons. He stopped. “You look great,” he said. Something in his expression was odd, Darcy thought. He was staring at her intently. She knew that look. It was his ‘we need to talk’ face.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. “My ring’s upstairs.”

“We didn’t want her to get it all messy,” Angela said. “She didn’t want to take it off.”

“She’s such a sweet girl,” Anita said to him. Darcy smiled when he went over and hugged his aunt. “Have you been running around in the cold with wet hair?” Anita asked, sounding worried. 

“Showered at the gym,” he said. He looked at Darcy. His eyes followed her.

“You could get sick. Angie, tell him he could get sick,” Anita fretted.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Brock said. 

“He doesn’t listen to me,” Angela said. “Where’d you put the shrimp shells?” 

“The other fridge,” Brock said. They had a utility room. “You want me to get them?” he asked.

“Thank you,” Angela said. “I need to make more stock.”

“I’ll be back,” Brock said, leaving the kitchen with a look at them.

“That was aimed at you,” Fallon said dryly to Darcy.

“It’s very sweet,” Anita said. “He obviously adores you.” Darcy smiled. Anita was exactly the kind of person who’d think that.

Brock returned with a bag of shells. “Here they are, Ma,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, studying her list. 

He’d washed his hands and was moving over to Darcy’s side of the kitchen table when Jimmy appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Brock,” Jimmy said. “Let’s take Mikey to smoke, huh? It’ll be like old times.” 

“I just got back,” Brock said. He looked from Darcy to Jimmy.

“Haven’t done that since his old man was alive,” Jimmy added, looking back at Mike. Angela looked significantly at Brock. Darcy thought Mike mouthed  _ help  _ as soon as Jimmy looked away.

“Okay,” Brock said. “We’ll be at the cigar shop.”

“You enjoy yourselves,” Anita said. “We’ll be here.” She sounded cheery. Brock looked miserable, Darcy thought. He must really dislike Jimmy. It couldn’t be Anita. Anita was a doll, Steve would say.

“I’ll get my coat,” Mike said. Fallon got up and followed Mike to the living room. Brock made to go, too, then stopped and looked back at Darcy. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he repeated. “I--uh, I love you.” He looked stiff. She grinned at him. The poor baby, having to pretend in front of his mother.

“I guess I should kiss you goodbye, then,” she said pertly. 

“I’m turning around,” Angela said. Darcy walked over and put her hands on his chest. He locked eyes with her. She had to stand on her tiptoes to touch her mouth to his. 

“Love you,” she said in a low voice. He was still for a second, then she felt his arms go around her tightly as he leaned in. He was kissing her noisily and enthusiastically when she heard Jimmy’s voice.

“Hey, pal, we all know you’ve got a hot little number, but the rest of us wanna get out of here,” Jimmy said. They broke apart slowly. Darcy realized she was licking her lips as Brock glared at his uncle.

“You’re going to be back soon,” Darcy said, not letting go of his shirt. He looked at her. 

“Yeah,” he said, blinking.

“You got lipstick all over your mouth,” Jimmy said, snickering. Brock rubbed his lips and sighed.

“You don’t,” Darcy said, “it’s kiss proof.” She smiled. “You won’t know if I’ve kissed any of your cousins or something.” She heard Fallon cackle.

“That,” he said, pointing a finger at her nose, “is rude to do to me, your future husband.”

“Okay, future husband,” Darcy said archly, letting go of him. “Go.”

“Should I introduce you to cousin David?” Fallon said, as Brock walked away. 

“Don’t,” Brock said grimly. He frowned at Darcy and then disappeared around the corner.

About five minutes after they left, the relatives started to show up. She got her ring from upstairs, per Angela’s urging, for the first set of aunts to arrive. “So pretty!” they said. “We can’t believe he’s finally settling down!” they said. More cousins, aunts, and uncles arrived in waves. Angela--seeming to have anticipated this--threw together a punch and made Fallon get out cheese and crackers. The aunts told Darcy that she and her ring were pretty, the uncles made jokes about Brock being hard to pin down, and the cousins just attempted to snag food from the kitchen. Well, Cousin David did flirt with her a little. But Darcy suspected Fallon had put him up to it. They were all very nice. Soon, the kitchen and house were filled with so many Rumlows and assorted relatives that Darcy started to feel overwhelmed. She couldn’t remember anyone’s name and Brock wasn’t there to help. It was apparent to Darcy that she and Brock’s engagement was the main attraction. Or curiosity, really. Everyone had questions. And she had no idea how to answer them. “When’s the wedding, honey?” someone called out. She was surrounded by smiling, curious faces.

“Um,” Darcy said, “I don’t know. He just asked me.” Everyone seemed to find that funny.

“How big a wedding do you want?”

“I haven’t thought about it much,” Darcy said.

“Better make him set a date!’ Brock’s cousin Jennifer said.

“Yup,” Darcy replied.

“Are you Catholic?” someone else asked, a few minutes later. Darcy shook her head.

“Would you be interested in becoming Catholic?” That was an aunt.

“Don’t pressure her, Kathy--” someone said. 

“I don’t know,” Darcy said.

“It’s perfectly fine if she’s not Catholic,” Angela declared.

“Hey, Darcy, come help me walk the dog,” Fallon said, finally rescuing her. “I can’t figure out how to get her coat on.” The temperature had dropped overnight.

“The dog wears a coat?” one of the younger cousins said. 

“She has as many clothes as Angie!” another cousin chortled.

“Make sure Darcy has a good coat,” Angela said, appearing suddenly from the kitchen. “Give her one of mine, Fallon. It’s too cold for that little coat she has.” Over Darcy’s quiet protests, Fallon put her in one of her mother's fur coats. It was a big coat.

The first burst of fresh air was a relief. “Thank you,” Darcy said, once they were outside. Princess sniffed the sidewalk. 

“Ma said you looked like you were drowning in Sicilians,” Fallon joked. “And now that coat!” She giggled.

“I’m short,” Darcy said, looking at the coat. “And you picked this one on purpose!”

“I did,” Fallon said, voice giddy. They walked around. Darcy felt grateful for the coat. It was cold. She couldn’t help thinking about Brock. “What is it?” Fallon asked, catching the change in her face.

“Your family’s from Sicily?” Darcy asked.

“Sicily and southern Italy,” Fallon said. “Are you okay?”

“Ummm,” Darcy said. She didn’t want to lie to Fallon. She didn’t actually like lying. One of the reasons she loved Jane and even was amused by her brusqueness was because Jane was straightforward. “Well, I, uh---” Darcy stuttered out.

“You’re getting cold feet,” Fallon said, looking panicky. “We freaked you out.”

“No, no,” Darcy said. She swallowed. “Fallon, I really like Brock--”

“Yeah?” Fallon said, expression nervous.

“But I didn’t think he was that serious about me,” Darcy said quietly. “I thought he  _ was  _ the hard to pin down guy and I was the one who cared more. I’d been trying not to have feelings.” It was as close to the truth as she could get.

“Oh,” Fallon said.

“I was completely surprised when he asked me on this trip,” she explained. “I thought maybe he was dumping me or we were in trouble with HR.”

“Holy shit,” Fallon said. “And he proposed?” At her stunned expression, Darcy started to laugh. 

“This is my life now,” Darcy said. “I have this ring on my finger, your mom’s coat on and--and--”

“What?” Fallon said.

“I’m sort of addicted to your brother,” she admitted in a low voice. “Like, I can’t stop thinking about him or having sex with him in ways I definitely don't with anybody else--”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” Fallon said. Then she stopped and smirked. “Did he show you the article about the guy whose penis exploded?”

“What?” Darcy said.

“It was the shower sex article,” Fallon said. “Boom! No more penis.”

“No. You traumatized him,” Darcy said, probably too-loudly. She started to laugh. “He couldn’t even tell me!” Fallon giggled. The dog stopped in front of a brightly decorated house. 

“Oh, shit,” Fallon said. “She kicked off her little shoe.” Darcy peered around.

“Found it!” Darcy said. “It was under this shrub.”

“Why does she have to wear shoes? I get the little coat, but shoes?” Fallon wondered.

“The road salt irritates their paws,” Darcy said, bending to wrestle Princess’s foot back into the dog shoe.

“You’re going to make such a good mom,” Fallon said. 

“I dunno,” Darcy said awkwardly. She was glad Fallon couldn’t see her face. “I’ve got my hands full making sure Jane remembers her lunch and coat every day. Does Brock even want kids?”

“No clue, but we all know you’re practicing,” Fallon said. “The walls are thin.”

“How thin?” Darcy said. “Oh God. You didn't hear--”

“No comment!” Fallon said.

“That means everything, doesn't it?”

***

Brock came into the house and was greeted by a sea of familiar faces. Everyone was here, he realized with a sinking feeling. And he’d left Darcy on her own. “Hey!” one of his uncles said. “Mister federal agent is back! We heard your big news, pal.” Everyone started talking at once. His Aunt Marie hugged him. Someone slapped him on the shoulder. Jimmy and Mike were behind him. Faintly, he could hear Jimmy complaining and Mike saying hello. Someone offered them liquor. 

“Hey,” he said, hugging his nearest cousin. “Everybody’s here. Tina, you’re pregnant.”

“Second one, idiot,” she teased. “You missed the first one. You stink.”

“Cigars, sorry. I’ve missed a lot. Where’s my mother?” he asked.

“The kitchen. Where else?” Tina’s husband said. Brock thanked him and shifted through the crowd. He thought Darcy was probably helping his mother. Moving into the kitchen, he was greeted by more relatives. People were helping his mother prep, he thought thankfully.

“Hey,” he said. His Aunt Cheryl realized it was him first.

“Here he is!” she said. “He’s back, Angie.”

“Wish I’d never left, Cheryl,” Brock said, smiling. “You look nice.”

“Flatterer,” Cheryl said. “Handsome flatterer. We met Darcy.”

“Where is she?” he said. “I wanna talk to her.”

“She and Fal are walking the dog,” Angela said. Brock squeezed around to hug his mother. “What are you doing?” she said.

“I love you, Ma,” he said quietly.

“Awww,” Cheryl said. “I don’t know how he gets handsomer with age, Angie.”

“Johnny did the same thing,” his Aunt Anita said sweetly. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Angela said, eyeing him. Her expression went soft. “You smell like cigars.” She paused. 

“Sorry,” he said.

“Your father loved that place.”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “It’s not the same without him,” he added quietly. He’d been struck by a feeling of loneliness, as he and Mike listened to Jimmy ramble about politics in the cigar shop. It had been a thing Brock’s father liked to do: drag the men out to smoke in the cigar shop and trash talk with the owner during Christmas. Now his father was gone and the business belonged to a son-in-law who’d quietly told Brock that he “missed seeing John around the holidays.” That had hit him hard. Being in the familiar shop with its glass canisters of pipe tobacco and the wisps of smoke, but not hearing his father’s wry laugh or sly jokes. He’d realized that his father had been a buffer every Christmas, too--gently needling Jimmy and taking him down a notch. Being amusing and personable. Keeping people out of his mother’s way. In the old days, conversations had been less vitriolic. Unless he was misremembering them? 

“I miss him, too,” his mother said, nudging him softly.

“Yeah, well, you were his favorite person, Ma,” Brock said. He knew she liked being reminded of that. He wasn’t sure when it dawned on him that his dry, sarcastic father was besotted with his mother. Probably when he realized that other men didn’t routinely bring home presents for their wives and leave them, unannounced, on the dining room table for her to find later. And Fallon had been his favorite child, the one he bragged about when Fallon got a white collar administrative job at NYU. He’d been especially proud of that. His daughter with the masters degree and the university job. “You and Fal,” Brock added.

“Hush, he adored you,” she said, smiling. “You were just too much alike.” From the other room, Brock heard Jimmy laugh too loudly and say something obnoxious. He’d kept calling poor Mike “little Mikey.” Brock could tell without seeing that he was already drinking.

“I don’t have his knack for managing personalities,” Brock said, tilting his head significantly.

“Because you’ve never tried,” his mother told him. “You could learn a thing from Darcy.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said. “I’ll ask her to teach me. I need to go find her.”

“Everyone wants to know when the wedding is,” Cheryl said from behind him. Brock looked back, raising an eyebrow.

“You run her out of the house?” he asked.

“Of course not!” his Aunt Anita said sweetly. 

“Yes,” his mother said. “I told Fallon to help her. She looked like she needed air.”

***

Darcy and Fallon were in front of the house when Brock emerged. “I was looking for you--” he began. Darcy felt a wave of relief as soon she saw him. He stopped and looked startled. “Why are you wearing that?” Brock asked.

“Rude!” Darcy said, grinning in spite of herself. 

“Ma made her wear it!” Fallon said, laughing gleefully.

“You look like a little bear,” Brock said, laughing. “It’s cute.”

“Shut up, I can tell you’re making fun of me,” Darcy said. She pouted at him.

“Fallon, take the dog and go inside,” Brock said. His voice had gone warm. “I need to talk to Darcy.”

“Ooooh,” Fallon said. At his look, she hurried into the house. Brock walked up to Darcy, expression intent. He got close. Closer than he usually stood to people.

“What are you doing?” Darcy said.

“I’ve got a question for you, sweetheart.”

“You know your entire family is watching out the window, right?” Darcy asked. He shrugged fluidly.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, leaning in close. His mouth was mere inches from hers. Darcy found herself stretching towards him in response. She was pulled towards him like a magnet, she realized. It was his personality. His charisma was magnetic. He reached for her gloved hand. “What I want to know is,” Brock began, interlacing their fingers, “do you want to keep telling everybody we’re getting married?” He smiled. “Maybe, uh, for an indefinite amount of time?”

“An indefinite amount of time?” Darcy echoed.

“Well, I was thinking you might want some nice engagement presents?” he said. Darcy stared.

“What do you want?” she asked softly.

“I want to be able to kiss you at work,” he said, smirking. “Like this.” He cupped the side of her face with his other hand, thumb on her chin. Darcy couldn’t look away as he locked eyes with her. It was a slow, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, she was shivering--half from cold and half from desire. “So?” Brock said. “You wanna keep doing this?”


	7. Set A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“How?” Darcy said, feeling stunned. “How do we keep this going?”

“It’ll be easy,” Brock said. “We tell everybody, you wear your ring to work, we say we’re still figuring out plans. You want to do it?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. Her heart was racing. She felt lucky that she was already pink from the cold. “But how?” she repeated. He beamed at her. 

“People take a long time with these big weddings, right?” Brock said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “A year, maybe more time.” 

“A year, huh?” Brock said. He’d almost lit up.

“Why are you so happy?” she asked.

“It’s going to be a good year, sweetheart,” Brock told her. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll have a good time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Darcy said. She made her voice a little challenging. Her smirked slowly.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling her closer by his mother’s fur coat. His teeth raked across his bottom lip as he studied her. “Come inside and have a drink with me and pretend you want to be my wife, huh?”

“I’m getting all the difficult jobs this ye---ahhh!” Darcy said, as he picked her up. “Oof. What are you doing?” He tightened his grip around her back and under her knees.

“The traditional kidnapping of the bear bride,” he joked. “I’m sorry I left you with all my relatives.”

“It’s okay, everyone’s been nice, I just don’t know how to answer their questions,” Darcy said.

“Lemme do that,” Brock said. He started to carry her to towards the door.

“Wait, what if we get tired of each other?” Darcy asked.

“We take a break, tell everybody we’re fighting about wedding stuff, until you can't stay away from me and come back for more sex,” he said slyly. 

“Shut up,” she said. “You can’t survive your own relatives without me.”

“Nope,” he said lightly. He frowned. “This damn coat is heavy. What died for this thing?”

“I’ve been trying not to think about that,” Darcy said. “Don’t tell me.”

“My father bought Ma all this stuff. Coats and jewelry,” he said. He shook his head. “I need to get her another Christmas present, probably...”

“I think that’s nice,” Darcy said. “That he gave your mother things she liked. I made my present from us. I already I bought you a present, too.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” he scolded.

“It’s your mother, how could I not?” she argued. He grinned at her.

“I’ve got to buy her and you more things. You want a coat?” he said teasingly. Darcy shook her head, then thought about it. “What?” he said.

“Hmmm,” she said.

“Tell me,” Brock said.

“I wouldn’t mind cake,” Darcy said. He laughed.

“We can taste all the cake you want, sweetheart,” he said. “Just don’t make me eat all those fucking carbs.” Darcy was still giggling as he carried her into the house.

  
  


“You should set a date,” Brock’s Aunt Cheryl said to them as they sat in the living room that evening. Most of the relatives had gone and Mike and Fallon were ferrying some of the older people home in his car, so they wouldn’t need to walk or take the subway in the cold. Uncle Jimmy had passed out after debating education with Fallon, but Aunt Anita was still awake and smiling gently. Brock had gamely answered all their questions with sly jokes, been wildly affectionate with Darcy, and had even revised his earlier version of their meeting at SHIELD’s cafeteria to include flattering details about how beautiful Darcy looked. He’d described her as “radiant.”

“I said that,” Cousin Jennifer said. “Set a date.”

“Sure,” Brock said. He was rubbing Darcy’s back and had spiked her coffee with amaretto. She’d been enjoying leaning against him, turning her head to catch the scent of his cologne on his sweater. It was deeply ironic that he wore Obsession. She liked the way he smelled enough to buy him more as her fake Christmas present. Now she could nuzzle at him in public whenever she felt like it. That was nice. She inhaled deeply. He smiled at her.

“We might take some time to plan the wedding,” Darcy said, attempting her first little white lie. “I haven’t even thought about what we’d want or the budget,” she added. “Or how long it could take.” She pretended to frown. “A year?”

“You should enjoy your engagement, honey,” Angela said. “Don’t worry about it yet. Take a few weeks to tell everyone, celebrate, before you start thinking about money or catering.”

“A year?” Brock said, sounding surprised. He was such a good actor, Darcy thought.

“Oh, some people take two,” Cheryl said. Jennifer nodded. Darcy leaned back. When she wiggled against him, Brock spoke.

“Why not do it sooner?” he said. “I don’t want to wait a whole fucking year.” Surprised, Darcy looked at him and raised her eyebrows. 

“You don’t?” she said.

“Brock,” his mother scolded.

“I don’t want to wait to be married to you,” he said, smiling gently at Darcy. What was he doing, she thought? Weren’t they supposed to be pretending like it would take forever?

“They’re so sweet,” Anita said to Jennifer.

“He knows nothing about weddings,” Cheryl said. “Don’t listen to him, or you’ll be down at the courthouse on January third.”

“Why’s that bad? What’s wrong with that?” Brock said. Several people spoke at once.

“It’s not romantic!” Jennifer said, laughing at him. Her mother nodded.

“Courthouses with fluorescent lighting,” Cheryl said, shaking her head. 

“It’s not a church,” Anita said. “You should get married at church.” 

“They can get married wherever they want to,” Angela said mildly. “But let me call Father George and see what they’d have to do.” Darcy looked at Brock to see his reaction, but he was smiling.

“Our Lady of Mount Carmel is so beautiful, you’ll see tomorrow,” Anita said. “A beautiful church to be married in. His parents were married there. Angie, do you have your album?”

“I do,” Angela said. “I’ll get it.”

They were looking at the wedding album when Fallon and Mike came back. “Where’s the asshat?” Fallon said to Brock. She meant Jimmy. Cheryl snorted. Anita was in the kitchen with Angela and Jennifer and wouldn’t overhear. Darcy could smell the panettone and nepitelle baking. It smelled _wonderful._

“Passed out in the spare bedroom,” Brock said.

“Oh thank God,” Fallon said.

“Your parents’ wedding was beautiful,” Darcy said to Fallon. She had the album in her lap. “Really beautiful.” Peering over her shoulder, Mike nodded.

“You’re not gonna say the church looks like Europe, are you?” Brock said teasingly.

“It kinda does,” Fallon said. Darcy glared at Brock.

“You don’t even realize you got to have, like, culture and art where you grew up,” Darcy told him. “Completely oblivious to all your privileges.”

“I have privilege?” he said, smirking at her.

“You do,” she said. 

“Privilege,” he repeated, evidently amused.

“Italian privilege, Bronx privilege, proximity to Manhattan privilege,” Darcy listed off. “I grew up in a town so small that we didn’t get independent coffee shops until I was in high school. It was a big deal to be able to go somewhere with comfy chairs and buy a latte when I was fifteen, okay? That was the big time. Before that, it was just make it at home or three-thousand degree gas station capuccino from a machine mix. _You_ could hop on a train and go to a million world famous museums and places in high school.”

“It’s cute that you think I was interested in goddamned museums at fifteen,” Brock said, squeezing her. “Real cute, sweetheart.”

“But you had access to all that culture,” Darcy said. “You went to a church with actual art and marble and that’s normal for you.”

“Where’s she from?” Mike asked Fallon.

“Virginia and North Carolina,” Fallon said.

“I feel like I’ve spent my entire life before DC in these small towns and places with observatories,” Darcy said. “Reading about places where cooler things are happening.” She sighed. He tilted his head quizzically.

“Are you saying you have no culture?” Brock said.

“Only rich white people get culture in the south, the rest of us just have music and collards,” Darcy said. Fallon burst out laughing.

“You got what?” Brock said. 

“It’s very cute that you don’t know about collard greens, because that means I don’t have to make them,” Darcy said, squeezing his knee. 

“Huh?” he said.

“They stink,” Darcy said, “when you cook them. They’re greens like kale.” She looked back at the album. His parents looked impossibly young and hopeful. “It was a nice wedding,” she said.

“You remember that you’re pro-choice, right? I have heard you complain about poor people not having easy access to birth control and places not recognizing gay marriage,” Brock said, expression wry. “This”--he tapped the album’s glossy plastic photo cover with his index finger--“comes from a bunch of donations from poor people with, like, eight kids, who scraped their money together to support the church during the Depression or some shit.” 

“Don’t let your mother hear that,” Cheryl said.

“She’s being very open-minded,” Darcy said. Brock grinned.

“You defending Ma?” he said.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “She’s not putting pressure on us to do anything.” It was perfectly true. 

“No,” Brock said. His expression went soft. Darcy smiled at him and leaned in for a nuzzle. She buried her nose against his sweater collar and sighed. 

“You two are sickening,” Fallon said. 

“Young love,” Cheryl joked.

“He’s not young,” Mike said jokingly. 

“I saved you in that cigar shop, man,” Brock said. “There’s no need to insult me.” He rubbed Darcy’s back in long, gentle strokes.

“Okay, I need to go,” Darcy said, sighing. She made to pull away and Brock tightened his arm her.

“Why?” Brock said. “Where you going?”

“I can’t just cuddle you all night. I have a job to do.”

“Job?” he said.

“I need to go wrap your present,” Darcy said.

“Oh,” he said, seeming to let her go reluctantly.

“Do you need wrapping paper?” Fallon asked.

“I have bags,” Darcy said.

“I’ll hook you up, Ma loves wrapping paper,” Fallon said. “C’mon.”

“I’ll be back,” she told Brock. When she looked back, he was watching her while Cheryl talked to him and Mike. 

“If you want a cool church, Mike’s parents’ is very chill,” Fallon said. “They ordain women, support gay marriage, and have puppy mass--”

“Puppy mass?” Darcy said.

“Blessing of the Animals,” Mike called out. 

“You bring your pets to church,” Fallon said. “It’s like Our Lady of NPR over there.”

“Cool,” Darcy said.

“Very cool,” Fallon said. She sighed. “I would have been so excited to go to church when I was little if there had been kittens.” 

A few minutes later, Brock must’ve come looking for her. “Hey--” Brock said, opening the bedroom door.

“Don’t look! You can’t come in yet!” Darcy said. “I’m wrapping, I’m wrapping.” Fallon had deluged her with options. Angela had rolls of paper in a closet. She’d finally picked one in powder blue with glittering snowflakes. He half-shut the door. “I can still see your eyeball,” Darcy scolded.

“I’m not looking. I thought you were naked. You want me to wait in the hall?” he said dryly.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Like I would stop you if I was naked. Ow.”

“What?”

“Scotch tape cut,” she said. “Go help your mother!” She folded the paper over the cologne box, smiling.

***

“Ma, Darcy sent me to help,” Brock said, walking into the kitchen. He washed his hands. There were trays of pastries, anise cookies, and bread. They’d baked the _nepitelle_ and the panettone. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table, rolling arancini out of the risotto they’d made the other day.

“You can help tomorrow. Run the fryer for me,” Angela said. “I’ve already set my alarm, but if you’re doing the calamari, the lobster arancini, and the fried baccala, I can concentrate on the pastas, the cioppino, and the risottos and everything will be better fresh. The desserts are all done,” she said, gesturing. He nodded.

“You want me to bread anything?” he offered, knowing she had a routine. “What’s your plan?” he asked, sitting down and taking a scoop of the risotto to roll into a ball with lobster and dredge in her breadcrumbs.

“How do you know I have a plan?” Angela said, peering at his arancini. She nodded. “You remembered how to do that well.”

“Muscle memory,” he said. “Besides, you always have a plan for holidays. Pop used to joke that I ended up a STRIKE Commander because I got your genes for organizing things.” Angela laughed.

“He never said that in front of me,” she said.

“Said it to me all the time,” Brock said. “That he couldn’t take that kind of pressure, so I must’ve gotten my skills from you.”

“I don’t shoot people if they don’t like my Christmas Eve dinner,” Angela said. He could tell she was pretending to be offended. He leaned in.

“C’mon, you might not want to shoot Jimmy, but if I could put him on a quinjet--” he whispered, smirking.

“You hush, Anita will hear you. She loves him,” Angela said.

“God knows why,” Brock muttered. “Old pain in the ass. Why’d she marry him, anyway? She’s a sweet woman, she makes good _nepitelle,_ was there nobody else in the neighborhood? We got a man shortage or something?” His mother started to laugh. Animatedly. “What?” Brock said. “Wasn’t that funny.”

“No reason,” Angela said.

“What is it?” Brock repeated.

“Someone’s already asked how Darcy ended up stuck with you,” Fallon said. Brock turned his head. His sister was standing in the doorway. “I’ve come to steal _nepitelle.”_

“No,” his mother said. “Those are for Christmas Eve. You know that.”

“Who?” Brock said. 

“Please, just one for Mike? You know how he loves them, Ma,” Fallon begged, ignoring him.

“Oh, all right,” Angela said. “But just two.”

“Score,” Fallon said.

“Who asked that?” Brock repeated. “Is nobody gonna acknowledge my question?”

They refused to tell him, no matter how many times he asked. His mother finally ran him out by sending him upstairs with a little plate of _nepitelle,_ glasses, and a half-bottle of chilled prosecco. He knocked gently. “Baby, can I come in?”

“Yes,” she said. He opened the door slightly. There was a small pile of presents underneath the little tree in his room.

“What’d you buy?” he said, sighing. 

“Just a few things for you, your mom, and Fallon,” Darcy said. She’d changed into pajamas and was sitting crossed legged on his bed. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” she asked as he set the _nepitelle_ on the nightstand. He opened the bottle and poured her a glass. She peered at the pastries and grinned. He smiled back, feeling unaccountably relaxed. 

“Tomorrow, I’ve got to drag my ass out and buy Ma and Fallon some gifts in the morning, because I’m a lousy son who spent his present time getting engaged--” he said wryly.

“Can I go?” she asked, sipping her champagne. She was gazing longingly at the pastries.

“---I come home and get to man the damn fryer while you put your feet up and tolerate my relatives until we have Christmas Eve dinner and mass at midnight.” He smirked at her and tapped the plate. “Eat one, they’re for you.”

“Midnight?” Darcy said, taking a _nepitelle_. She set her glass down and he added a little more champagne. 

“Yes, it’s the one religious service that counts as being on you and Jane time,” he teased. “But, yeah, come with me. I need all the help I can get, ‘cause we don’t have a ton of flexibility in the schedule, sweetheart.” 

“Mmmm,” Darcy said, chewing. “This is so good.”

“You and your damn noises,” he said. He licked his lips and set the champagne glass on the nightstand. “Spread your legs for me, baby.” Darcy giggled and shook her head.

“Nope,” she said. “Not gonna.”

“You’ve had that ring on your finger one day,” he said, tilting his head. “Already jerking me around.” 

“Not exactly,” Darcy said, licking her fingers. She reached for the button on his jeans. “But I was thinking something like that,” she said, popping it open and unzipping his fly. 

“Oh, yeah?” he said. 

“Mmmm-hmmm.” She bit her up and hooked her thumbs in his belt loops. “You know,” she said, tugging down his pants, “I could do this faster if you weren’t vain enough to wear such tight pants.” He laughed. 

“You like that about me,” he said. 

“Possibly,” she said, leaning forward and pressing her lips just below his belly button. The sensation sent a jolt of arousal through him. A warm, throbbing heat. “I might appreciate that a little.” He chuckled softly as her fingers slid around the waistband of his briefs.

“Christ,” Brock muttered. She gripped the base of his cock gently and ran her tongue over his shaft. He felt mesmerized by the view: the contrast between the pink of her tongue and his dick, the lustful expression on her face, and the flashes of cleavage visible where her scoop necked top hung forward. His chest was rising and falling. Her neck was all flushed. “Fuck. Fuck,” he groaned. Then Darcy released his cock slowly to kiss his abdomen again. 

“Happy?” she asked. She teased kisses across his stomach and over the v-muscles of his hips. It was close to want he wanted, but not satisfying. He felt impossibly turned on. 

“You’re gonna torture me, aren’t you?” he bit out.

“Who could have taught me that?” she murmured, her mouth brushing his belly button. “Don't poke me in the eye,” she added, smirking. He'd rocked his hips a little, instinctively. His cock bobbed, but she ignored it, pushing it down gently. Even that light touch made him moan. Her fingers made circles over his glutes, tongue still tracing his ab muscles. That tongue. Her fucking tongue. And that lush mouth. Everyone thought she was so cute and naive, but she fucked him in closets and shamelessly teased him in his old bedroom. That made him crazy. He groaned in frustration and desire.

“Please,” he said in a low voice.

“Please what?” Darcy said. She looked up at him.

“Suck my dick,” he said. “With your gorgeous mouth.”

“Mmmm,” she said. “My mouth?”

“Those--those amazing dick sucking lips you got,” he stuttered. “I fucking love them. You're so good, baby. Incredible, just for me. Please. Please do this for me.” She grinned at him mischievously.

“Okay,” she said, lowering her head. He hissed when her hand gripped his dick again and was momentarily afraid he'd come as soon as she had him in her mouth and it would be over too soon. He took a deep, shaking breath to slow down, thinking _relax relax, asshole._ When he felt her lips brush his dick, he closed his eyes and moaned.

“Ah, fuck,” he gasped. “You’re killing me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was going around smelling colognes and perfumes at Ulta, like you do, and decided Brock Rumlow smells like Obsession for Men, for people who've asked me this question. It just smells *right.* Warm spices like cinnamon and nutmeg, plus musk and amber. It's very smooth, with none of that loud sharpness you get from the "fresh" notes in some men's colognes. My tester strip still smells fantastic, days later.
> 
> And then I googled and discovered this, which is hilarious--start making your jokes now: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1285007/Obsession-big-cats-Scientists-cheetahs-jaguars-attracted-Calvin-Klein-fragrance.html


	8. A Little Bit of a Hot Chocolate Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“C’mon,” Brock snapped as they went into the subway station the next morning. He’d woken up in a bad mood and Darcy wasn’t sure why. It might’ve been his uncle Jimmy’s five am lecture on the evils of PBS, or it could be Christmas shopping for his mother. Possibly, it could be their fake engagement. She tried not to let the thought hurt, but it nagged at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m wondering how crazy this will be,” she said, pushing aside her feelings, the uncertainty that arose when he was moody.

“Insane,” he said. He stood on the morning train and glared at everybody. 

“Hmm,” Darcy said, trying to suppress a grin.

“What?” he said.

“I had no idea Rollins had taught you Murderface,” she teased. Brock grimaced.

“I hate malls, I hate shopping, I hate--” he was saying.

“Everything?” Darcy said dryly.

“Yes,” he said. He swore vividly when the train was delayed. New Yorkers didn’t notice that kind of thing, which was new and fun, she realized. The guy opposite them merely sighed and looked at his watch. Darcy read a book on her phone--she had to squint--and pretended they weren’t together. It was technically true. 

“Question?” she said, holding up an index finger, as they neared their stop.

“Yeah?” Brock said. He’d been mid-motherfucker, grumbling to himself.

“Is it more effective if we split your list and I take one part and you take the other?” she said. She looked at him. “Strategically?” she added. He looked thoughtful.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good idea, sweetheart.” He sighed. “My mother likes Bloomingdales.” 

“Bloomingdales,” Darcy said, grinning.

“What?” he said.

“Old Nora Ephron joke about going to Bloomingdales to buy a hat that ends up being a mistake, probably because hats are tricky unless you’re tall. I always look like Strawberry Shortcake in wide brimmed hats,” Darcy said. She sighed. “I miss Nora Ephron.” He looked puzzled.

“Who?” he said, frowning.

“You’re a cultural philistine,” she told him. “But we’ll go.” 

“Philistine,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy told him, patting his knee. He snorted.

“You’re the one with the philistine,” he pointed out.

“I’ll put it on a t-shirt,” she said, then was surprised when he smiled at her. They went to Bloomingdale’s first. In front of the big store windows, they divved up the list, he gave her suggestions and they decided on a plan. 

“You’ve got good ideas,” he said.

“I hope I’m right,” Darcy said, before she waded into the melee of shoppers. She glanced back at Brock before he was swallowed up by a stream of people moving in the opposite direction. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered to herself. It was a lot like conferencing with Jane, Darcy decided. You just moved forward like you belonged and looked determined no matter how many times an eminent nuclear physicist tried to whack you with his elbow. She tackled the first giftee on her list: Brock had given her Fallon. She could handle Fallon. 

Ten minutes later, Darcy was looking at scarves when a woman asked her opinion on a dark velvet capelet seeded with pearls. She was buying it for her daughter, the woman said. “She’s about your age,” she told Darcy. “But she never likes anything I buy.”

“Hmm,” Darcy said, “does your daughter like to dress up? That’s a pretty formal, uh, cape?” They got into a serious discussion of formal versus informal. The woman was clearly more formal than her daughter, who had two kids under five and would probably not want a velvet capelet that showed every bit of pet hair, lint, and smudgy baby fingers, Darcy thought. Plus, fake pearls were...grabby. Darcy steered her towards a scarf in purple. “If you’re set on a nice accessory, it’s cashmere?” she offered hopefully. She’d been eyeing one for Fallon; Brock had been generous with her budget.

“Cashmere is nice,” the woman said. “I wonder what pattern?”

  
  


***

Brock was looking for gifts for his mother. He felt lousy. He’d woken up feeling lousy and wanted to escape the house as soon as possible. He needed the break before tonight. His uncle Jimmy was in full blowhard mode, Brock wanted to be home in time to help his mother, there was mass tonight, and he had the prospect of being exhausted to look forward to, as well. Also, everything about holiday shopping irritated him. The crowds pressed in, the music was loud, and he was lousy at this stuff. Nothing seemed appropriate. He glanced around Bloomingdale’s.

He sure as shit wasn’t buying his mother clothes, he thought. 

He tried housewares, but he didn’t see anything she didn’t already have. He circled past luggage, but remembered that she, unlike him, barely traveled. She didn’t need a fucking suitcase. What did she want? She liked jewelry. He moved to the section of the store with jewelry, feeling an increased sense of irritation at being bumped. When he looked over to glare, he realized it was an elderly man. The man looked tired on his feet. He was wobbling. “You all right, sir?” he said. 

“Fine, fine,” the man said. 

“There’s, uh, a bench over there,” Brock said. “If you need one.” The man thanked him and moved off. Brock watched him, wincing when he was brushed by a shopper. But he seemed to make it. Brock turned back and saw his own face in one of the mirrors on the counter. What would he look like when he was that old, he wondered? How alone would he be? He wondered about his mother being alone. Fallon was here, thank God. But Ma would never want to give up her house and the neighborhood for DC. He shook off a depressing series of thoughts about being alone and returned to shopping. What did she want? What did she want? He circled a display twice before something caught his eye.

Brock looked at a pair of earrings. Would his mother like these? He wished he could ask Darcy’s opinion. He’d snapped at Darcy, too, not really meaning to, he thought with a sigh. She’d seemed nonplussed, but he should apologize. He was anxious. He chose the earrings for his mother, but paused at a necklace. He winced a little at the price of both, but he was only buying things for the three women in his life, Brock rationalized. And Mike, he remembered. “That, too,” he told the salesperson, “for my, uh, fiancée. We just got engaged. This week.” 

“That’s nice,” the salesperson said, smiling weakly. She was evidently fatigued.

“I think she’ll like that, it’s bright. She likes, uh, bright things,” he said, then realized he was babbling at a stranger. What the fuck was wrong with him? He rubbed his jaw and completed the the transaction. Where was Darcy? They’d agreed to meet in twenty minutes. He carried his bag over a few steps, trying not to bump anybody and called her on the phone. She answered quickly.

“Hey!” she said, sounding cheerful.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I was helping Ruth pick out a scarf for her daughter and then someone asked my opinion about a hat--” Darcy said.

“What?” he said. “I’m in jewelry. Just tell me where you are.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, giving him a location. As he walked towards her, she added, “I have thoughts about other gifts, too. I found Fallon and Mike something, but what if you get small gifts for the rest of your family? I was thinking hot chocolate or soaps?”

“Gifts for everybody,” he repeated. He hadn’t planned on bothering with it; they didn’t do big family gifts, there were so many people.

“If that’s okay? Would it cost too much?” Darcy asked. She sounded tentative. What the hell, he thought, he’d do it and be Mr. Generous this year. 

“No,” he said. He sighed. “It wouldn’t.” 

“Okay,” she repeated.

“But Jimmy gets the fucking soap,” he said. He heard her start to laugh, then turned and realized she was right in front of him with a woman he didn’t know. 

“Hi,” Darcy said. She was smiling. 

“This is your fiancé?” the woman next to Darcy said.

“This is Ruth,” Darcy said. “She’s shopping for her daughter.”

“You know each other from DC?” Brock said, confused. She’d never mentioned a Ruth.

“Oh, no, we just met,” Darcy said.

“Your fiancée is very helpful,” Ruth said. She thanked Darcy and Darcy waved back at her before she was lost in the crowd of shoppers.

“What the hell was that?” Brock said.

“Oh, people talk to me in stores, I have one of those faces,” Darcy told him. She looked amused. “Jane finds it really annoying,” Darcy added. “It always takes me twice as long.”

“You just helped a stranger Christmas shop?” he said.

“You sound like Jane. I help people all the time. What’s in your bag?” she asked. When she went to peer in, he pulled his hand away.

“No,” he said. “There’s something for you in there.” 

“Okay, fine. I like surprises. Let’s go to soaps and the place where the Godiva is,” she said, taking his arm. 

“Godiva sounds expensive,” he said, adjusting his steps to match hers.

“But sooo good,” she said. “Their hot cocoa is...uh, what’s that thing your cousin said the other day?”

“He was saying you were hot in very dirty Sicilian, that wasn’t a neutral good,” Brock grumbled. 

“Oh,” she said, grinning, as they walked. “I thought he was talking about some yummy food.” Brock sighed.

“No. You realize people you meet in public could be serial killers, right?” he said. “I mean, I don’t like it for safety reasons--”

“Okay, your objections are registered,” she said. 

“Darcy, take this seriously,” he scolded.

“I am taking it just as a seriously as anything else today,” she said, voice teasing.

“Sure,” he said, feeling skeptical. 

“Like, how serious do I need to be at mass tonight? Is it very ooh-oohh solemn or more, ‘hey, Jesus’s birthday, let’s have wine and crackers’?” she asked. He laughed. 

“Moderately serious,” he said. Then her arm tightened. “What?” he said.

“Chocolate,” she said brightly. “I saw chocolate. It’s involuntary.”

“Expensive fucking chocolate,” he murmured, as she bee-lined towards a tower of things wrapped in glitzy foil. 

“How’s dinner going to go?” she asked. He explained the usual routine, but caught himself stuttering when he would normally say something about his father. “You okay?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” He wasn’t going to cry in fucking Bloomingdales. Instead, he tried to be light, describe the usual family squabbles. “Jimmy and my cousin Tina will probably scream at each other at some point,” Brock said. “But, uh, it’s just a lot of yelling. No front porch fighting like you southerners.”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” Darcy said pertly. “Those people aren’t my family.” She scrunched her nose. “They’re my mom’s, sorta. I mean, as long as she and Tom stay together, that’s her circus and her monkeys,” she said. Brock chuckled.

“My family think you’re their family,” he pointed out. She was peering at boxes of truffles when she looked at him with a funny expression. 

“But they’re actually nice,” she said.” She looked thoughtful. “When I agreed to do this, I thought your relatives would fight more,” Darcy said. “I didn’t know I’d be tricking nice people.”

“Just wait ‘til dinner,” he said. “How many cans of fucking cocoa are you getting?” She was stacking them in her arms.

“What’s enough?” she said. 

“More,” he grumbled. “I’ll get you a basket.” He got one and returned to her. “What next?”

“Soap for Jimmy,” she said, smiling.

“Great,” he said. “I wonder if we can get an Uber and not drag all this shit home on the subway?”

“I might’ve blown your Uber budget,” Darcy admitted, looking guilty. “I have a little bit of a hot chocolate...problem?”

“Uh-huh,” he said dryly. 

They ended up on the subway. He glared at anyone who glanced Darcy’s way. She was carrying bags that rattled with tins of hot chocolate and bars of far too expensive fucking soap. He didn’t want someone to get any stupid ideas. “I hope Jimmy’s soap is itchy,” Brock whispered. Darcy snorted.

“I texted Fallon, Mike’s meeting us with the car at the station,” Darcy said. 

“Mike is my new favorite relative,” Brock said, glancing at Darcy. Her nose was pink from the cold. She’d wrapped up in her scarf. 

“We got him a nice tie,” Darcy said. 

“Good,” he said. 

“What’d you buy me?” she asked, looking curious.

“You’ll find out on Christmas,” he said. “It’s a surprise.”

“Phfft,” Darcy said, sticking her tongue out. “Funsucker.” Then she paused and leaned closer. “You didn’t spend much money, right?” she said. Brock rolled his eyes towards her.

“Nah,” he said. “You’ve just got to feed it live mice every--”

“Ahhh, no, shut up. Shut up,” Darcy said. “Ughhhhhh.” She shook her head. When she half swatted at him--her wrist was circled with bulky shopping bags--he grabbed her hand. 

“You’ll like it,” he said, looking down at her ring. 

“You’ve bought me enough,” she said.

“I thought you liked spending my money?” he countered. She made a guilty face and he grinned. “Besides, we’re newly engaged,” Brock said.

“I don’t get it?” she said.

“People in love are stupid about money,” he said.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “But if we need to return something?”

“Nope,” Brock said. He was fairly certain she would like her necklace because it matched her ring. He let himself relax as they rode. This was his moment to rest before the craziness started. He felt good. The train wasn’t even delayed. 

***

It looked like it could snow as they left the train station. “Where do we go?” Darcy was starting to say, when Brock gestured. He’d spotted Mike.

“Brother,” Brock said to Mike when they got tp his vehicle, “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.” 

“We have a lot of gifts,” Darcy said. Brock had insisted on carrying them out.

“I circled the block so many times, I thought somebody was going to call Homeland Security,” Mike joked.

“Where’s Fallon?” Brock asked, as they got in the car.

“Helping your mother,” Mike said.

“Shit, I better get home,” Brock said.

“Yeah,” Mike said.

“Why?” Darcy said, feeling like the queen sitting in the backseat. She was surrounded by shopping bags.

“They, uh, squabble...a little,” Mike admitted.

“Ma has difficulty delegating without being, uh, bossy with Fallon,” Brock said. “Only on major holidays, really.”

“I’m scared about the weddings,” Mike admitted. 

“Weddings?” Darcy said. “Who’s getting married?” She assumed he meant a relative.

“Me and Fallon, I hope,” Mike said, laughing. “And you two!” 

“Whoops,” Darcy said lightly. “I forgot there’s an eventual wedding when somebody puts a ring on it.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said, turning back to look at her. He was grinning. “Sure.”

“I did!” she insisted. “Weddings seem like a thing you go to, not actually, uh, have as a, uh, participant.”

“Darcy, I think you’re digging that hole deeper,” Mike said in his accountant voice.

“It’s not like he jumped in there to say it was us!” she said, pointing to Brock. He was laughing at her.

“Her subtleness is one of the reasons I love her,” Brock told Mike.

When they got to the house, the tension was evident. Darcy heard raised voices as soon as they walked in. “They’re scrapping in there,” Uncle Jimmy said, with an unhelpful sort of glee. “You buy a lot of stuff?” he asked. “She spendin’ your money, pal?” Darcy wondered if she could tase him and get the remote before anyone got there; he’d clearly been blasting cable news all day. Just then, Fallon’s voice drifted into the room.

“We should check on that,” Brock said. The three of them walked into the kitchen.

“If you don’t like the way I do it--” Fallon was saying to Angela, hands on her hips.

“That is not what I meant--” Angela said, looking equally ruffled. Anita stood between them, looking distressed.

“Let’s not argue,” she said tentatively.

“We’re not arguing!” Fallon and Angela snapped at once.

“Hey,” Brock said. Both of them turned in surprise. “I’m back to run the fryer, but I was hoping Fallon could help Darcy wrap some of these?” He’d spoken in a deceptively mild voice. “If you can’t--” he added.

“Oh thank God, I need out of this kitchen,” Fallon said. “C’mon, Darcy.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. Fallon stopped as she passed Mike.

“I’m not cooking when we’re married!” she said, turning to glare at her mother. “Ever!”

“I’m fine with delivery,” Mike said calmly. “Or I can cook?”

“Good,” Fallon said. “I’d rather wrap a million presents than make soup.”

“Darcy’s got a million for you,” Brock said. “Except yours and Mike’s. Darcy, you’ve got that bag, right?” At the sound of her name, Darcy glanced over and realized Angela was mouthing _thank you_ at Brock. He turned back and winked at her. She nodded.

“Yes, I’ve got them,” she said. She watched him tuck something in his pocket before he handed a bag to Fallon. 

“Ma’s is this one,” he told his sister.

  
  


“Ugh,” Fallon said, bringing Darcy into her room and plopping on the bed. “I hate fish and cable news, hand to God.” She raised her arm and Darcy burst out laughing. “What’d you get?” Fallon asked. Princess followed them into the bedroom.

“Chocolate and soap,” Darcy said. 

“You’re so much classier than anyone Brock dated before,” Fallon said, looking at the hot cocoa. Darcy snorted.

“I only have high standards in chocolate,” she said. At Fallon’s laugh, she mimicked her gesture. “Hand to God.” Then she frowned. Princess was sniffing the shopping bags. “No, no, stay out of those. Bad for puppies,” she told the dog. “Where can we put gifts where she won’t get in them?”   
  
  


***

Brock didn’t get to see Darcy as the afternoon went on. He heard her laughing with Fallon, playing with the dog, and talking to his relatives as they arrived for dinner, but he was stuck manning the fryers. He made what seemed like a million calamari, baccala, and arancini for the first course, sweating until he had to change in gym clothes. His feet ached, he'd been popped with some tiny oil droplets, and his back hurt. “I understand why those guys at the pizza place with big goddamn wood oven are so grumpy now, Ma,” he joked. Another round of squid went into the fryer with a sizzle.

“You’re doing great,” his mother said breezily. She was in her nice clothes, he realized when he looked back, because he was doing this miserable work. That made him feel slightly like a better son. She’d been serving drinks in the other room. They’d finished the risottos for the second course and prepped the pastas for the third. 

“Don’t let Fal hear that,” he said. “We eatin’ yet?”

“Yes,” his mother said, taking the nearest tray of finished baccala. “I just need ice in the living room.”

“I’ll get it as soon as these are done,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. Go enjoy yourself.”

  
  


He was in the utility room getting ice out of the freezer when Darcy ducked in behind him. “Hey,” she said, “I missed you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her body against his back.

“Yeah?” he said. “I’m all sweaty and I smell like a fryer, sweetheart.”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Darcy said. “It's very sexy. I was totally checking you out until some of your cousins busted me. You look great all sweaty and fried things are my favorite. If you were making French fries in this tank top, I’d be proposing to you for real.” He turned, feeling himself smirk. _Proposing to him for real._ The words echoed in his head and made him feel smug. Darcy squeezed him.

“Yeah? You wanna fool around a little…?” he said. She nodded and he pulled her around, wedging her between his body and the wall. He realized Darcy was interested in more than kissing him. Her mouth was hungrily sucking on his shoulders when he reached for the waistband of her leggings.

“Oh God,” she said, giggling as he boosted her up onto the utility sink. “There’s a million people out there and this is so fun.” 

“You like sneaking around in storage rooms,” he joked. She shuddered as he pushed inside her. “I’m so fucking tired, this is gonna be quick,” he said apologetically. “But later I’ll--” She cut off his apologies with a heated kiss. God, she was so fantastic. Her fingers gripped his hair, tugging in a way that gave him mixed pleasure and pain. He groaned as their mouths touched. “Honey,” he said.

“Be rough,” she said, voice almost begging. “Before we get caught.” That spurred him on. They were fumblingly hanging onto each other when he came. He had to close his eyes for a moment, holding her still against him. She made a soft, yearning sound when he moved his hips again.

“Oh God,” he said, arms shaking. “I forgot the fucking condom again.” He looked down in chagrin.

“Uh-oh,” Darcy said, smirking. “Eighteen years of on and off?” She was clearly teasing him, but the combination of holiday anxiety, fatigue, and sex must have broken him.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said, kissing her again and wedging his hand at the apex of her thighs. “I wouldn't mind,” he repeated. Darcy whimpered.

They were discovered by his cousin Tina. “Jesus Christ, you’re fucking back here?” she said. “I can see your whole ass, you sleaze,” she called, before shutting the door again.

“Fuck,” Brock said. He felt dazed. Like he’d been caught on multiple levels. Darcy looked at him and started to laugh. He silenced her with a kiss. She kept letting him kiss her as they put their clothes back on.

“This is my first Christmas walk of shame,” she said. “Let’s, um, wash up and get arancini?” She looked at the sink. “A bonus of having sex on uncomfortable sinks that never occurred to me,” Darcy said. 

“Yeah,” he said, wondering when she was going to realize he’d showed his hand. Would she be happy or upset?

They were mildly razzed throughout dinner. Tina had apparently told Fallon and Mike, but not his mother. That meant that half the relatives were asking Darcy sincere engagement questions, while the cousins who’d been told smiled wickedly and made sly sex jokes. Darcy seemed not to mind. Brock felt more and more anxious about his slip--telling Darcy he wouldn’t mind really being with her for years. He wondered if she was upset. He looked at her. She was beaming and eating arancini. His mother had seated them slightly apart. “Something bothering you?” his Aunt Cheryl asked.

“He can't stand not sitting with her, Mom,” Jennifer said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. It had begun to dawn on him that he wanted this thing between them to be real. A real relationship. He gazed at Darcy. She looked up, beamed at him, and pitched her voice loud enough for him to hear.

“If you keep feeding me this food, I’m joining your family whether we get married or not!” she said. Everyone at her end of the table laughed.

“I’ll marry you,” his cousin David said, then mock-ducked as if he was afraid Brock would attack him. Brock was trying to catch Darcy’s eye. She looked at him. 

_“I love you,”_ he mouthed across the table.

Of course, that had to be the moment when Tina and Jimmy started yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The restored 180th Street Station is genuinely beautiful:


	9. Visiting Woman Burns Down Historic Bronx Church in Candle Mishap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy realized Brock had been mouthing something at her when the yelling started. Jimmy had been complaining about immigrants when Tina pointed out that their ancestors had been immigrants and called him a dumbass. Various members of the family started laughing at Jimmy or making faces, depending on their politics. Then Tina said something about dipshit deplorables that made Jimmy wave his arms. “Hey, hey,” Jimmy yelled, “you might be pregnant but--”

“But what, asshole?” Tina said. The yelling turned into tittering and whispering. 

“Excuse me?” Tina’s husband said. He’d been talking to their older child at the kids’ table. Darcy wondered if it was too late to take her arancini and flee to there? The kids’ table could be fun. They could talk about Harry Potter or something. 

“Oh, you’re getting in this now?” Jimmy said. Angela had her hand across her forehead. Fallon was giggling. 

“Mass isn’t until midnight,” someone whispered in a tired voice, “and they’re already starting.” Darcy realized that was Angela. Darcy looked at Brock and wiggled her eyebrows. Brock must’ve misinterpreted her, because he interceded in the yelling match, standing up and clearing his throat. People stopped and stared. Even Tina and Jimmy.

“Listen to me, you two,” he said. “Ma spent days making this meal. She worked very hard on this and it’s Christmas fucking Eve, all right? Cut it out,” he said, pointing. He sat back down. There was silence. “Thank you,” Brock said.

“Mister Engaged wants everyone to play nice,” Jimmy said. “So we all gotta play nice?” He shrugged and looked around. People looked to Brock for a response, Darcy bit her lip. How would Brock respond to being challenged like that? Brock sighed. He looked up from rearranging the napkin in his lap. He tilted his head and went slightly expressionless. This was his STRIKE training face, Darcy realized, leaning forward to listen. When he spoke again, he was quieter. So much so that her end of the table had to strain to hear.

“You know, we have done this since I was a kid, but I cannot remember a Christmas when people screamed at pregnant women before?” he said. “I’d ask the old man, but he’s not here anymore.  _ Say, did Vittorio go around screaming at his daughters over Robert Moses when you were a kid, Pop?  _ I have a feeling he’d say no. We used to be decent to one another. We had our disagreements, sure,” he said, picking up his fork, “but we didn’t let a bunch of square-headed blowhards on the television make up our disagreements for us. You think Hannity and Chris Matthews give a shit? I live in DC, I’ve seen these people, they’re laughing all the way to the bank, Jimmy,” Brock said. “They don’t care that they’ve ruined your Christmas. They’re just feeding the outrage machine. It’s all for clicks now. Clicks, likes, whatever they’re calling it. Exists on both sides. Right and left--”

“Hold on,” Tina said, face going from delight at Jimmy’s discomfort to surprise.

“I’m getting to you, NPR,” Brock said. He grinned at Tina. “There’s no meaningful difference in how they get you, Tina. It’s all appeals to your emotions and your fears, just a different set of stories. Same emotions. The end goal is to get you upset. And to keep you coming back--”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t stay informed? Or protest all this shit that’s happening?” one of Brock’s cousins said. What was his name, Darcy wondered. Tom? Or was it Kevin?

“Nope,” he said. “I am not saying that. You know I agree with you that structural inequality exists, Kev. I just don’t think it exists in my mother’s kitchen and I don’t like seeing Ma disrespected like this.” Darcy saw Angela’s face change with some unreadable emotion. “Take that anger and protest at the office of the Senate majority leader or some shit. You can crash at my place if you want to,” he added.

“Really?” Kevin said. Brock nodded.

“You’re seriously suggesting that right and left are the same?” Tina said. She looked at Fallon.

“No, I just think the media’s built a huge reliance on sensationalism and fear-mongering.” Brock gestured. “Every day, you turn on the news and they’re sticking a camera in the face of some poor person whose house just got washed away in a flood, it doesn’t do a damn thing for global warming--” he said.

“Global warming--” Jimmy said.

“I’m not done,” Brock said calmly. He looked at Tina. “What I mean is that there’s no meaningful information in that story that helps you do anything, it just makes you feel lousy.” Jimmy scoffed. Brock ignored him. “But I don’t think the human mind’s designed to take tragedy at that level on a daily basis, over and over. It makes people miserable. They need something else to do. What’s that thing you mentioned, baby? You told me something about that?” He turned to look at Darcy.

“Me?” she said. “Don’t put me in the middle of this, I’m new!” That seemed to crack the tension a little. He laughed.

“She read an article, it said activities make people happier,” Brock said. 

“Oh, that one,” Darcy said, nodding. “I didn’t realize you meant that one. It just said hobbies and activities are good for overall well-being.”

“That right?” Jimmy said in what sounded like sarcasm.

“Yes,” Brock said flatly. “Like cigars. And the Yankees. You gonna argue with that?”  _ Oooh, _ Darcy thought. She looked at Angela. Jimmy looked a tiny bit called-out.

“Does he like those?” Darcy whispered. Angela nodded. “Whoops,” she whispered. 

“Fine, fine,” Jimmy said. “I’m not gonna argue about the Yankees.”

“You know, I was thinking of becoming a Nationals fan,” Brock’s cousin David said, eyes gleaming. “Can I stay at your place for that?” he asked Brock. The table erupted in laughter.

“Shut up, traitor,” Brock grumbled.

“Ohhhhhh,” Darcy said. “You’re a Yankees fan?”

“She doesn’t know?” Jennifer said. Everyone started to laugh.

“She doesn’t like sports,” Brock said defensively. 

“Tell her about the time he cried when it turned out his favorite player took steroids,” Jennifer said. “Literally cried.”

“They suspended him for eighty games and there was no proof he did anything other than go to that lab and ask questions,” Brock said insistently. “He never tested positive. He was a scapegoat for the league.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “This is new information that seems relevant to our marriage.” She raised her hand amidst the laughter. “Quick question, honey?” she added. Brook looked at her quizzically.

“Yeah?” he said. “I swear, he didn’t take--”

“No, I want to know if they still serve peanuts and popcorn at baseball games?” Darcy said. “And is it just beer or is there white wine?” 

“Uhhh,” Brock said.

“Because I can smuggle in wine in those little bottles if you wear your tactical pants with the good pockets,” she told him. “We could go to a game.” The whole table laughed and she grinned at him. 

“Yeah?” he said, looking delighted.

“But I’m not leaving here while there’s still arancini,” she joked.

“The crab,” Angela said suddenly. “I need to serve the next course!”

  
  


Joking about Brock’s love of the Yankees seemed to have broken some of the tension. Darcy thought it might be that teasing him about sports or their engagement was something the whole family could agree on. Also, there was so much food. She didn’t think she’d ever seen so much food in her life, but Darcy couldn’t stop eating. People had brought food in addition to Angela’s food. There was food everywhere. “This scampi is so good,” she told Angela, during the third course. “Can you adopt me?”

“You’re marrying my son!” Angela said, laughing. 

“He could get cold feet, look at him,” Darcy said, nodding in his direction. “He’s never been married before, men like that get jumpy at the altar.” She looked at Brock. He was talking and joking with Tina and Kevin. Jimmy had gone out to smoke cigars, but he seemed more subdued. She didn’t think Brock was paying attention to her and Angela.

“I’m not getting cold feet,” Brock said suddenly. “I’m all in, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, we heard about your all in from Tina,” Jennifer cracked. Several people laughed.

“What?” Angela said. “What did I miss?”

“He and Darcy had sex in the utility room,” Cheryl said. His aunt Anita looked faintly scandalized.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said, trying to look apologetic.

“I’m not,” Brock said, looking cheerful. Darcy could feel herself blushing a little.

“Just stay out of my coat closet,” Angela said slyly.

“Did you just make a joke, Ma?” Brock said. 

“She made a sex joke, don’t die,” Fallon said. 

“I make jokes!” Angela insisted. “Why does nobody around here think I’m funny?” She looked around. 

“I’m sure you’re funny,” Darcy said comfortingly. 

“She’s angling for more of your food, Ma,” Fallon said. 

“I’ll get you more linguine,” Angela said. “Pass me the bowl, Mike.” 

“Ugh,” Darcy said. “I need a second stomach for Christmas.” She caught herself, then looked at Brock, grinning. “I know I just said that, but no cow jokes, even if I gain weight today.”

“I’m not complaining,” Brock said wryly. He smiled at Darcy so happily, she could almost believe he meant all of it. 

***

Brock looked at Darcy as she sat down heavily next to him. “Is it possible to die of overeating?” she asked him. Enough people had moved around during the courses that he’d managed to snatch a chair next to her. His cousin David--David could eat like a horse--was the only one still eating. Everyone else was talking and in groups, resting and waiting to walk to mass later. 

“Nobody’s died yet,” he said. “That right, Ma? Nobody in the family’s died of eating too much?”

“There’s no such thing,” Anita said, from where she was sitting next to Angela.

“I could be the first one,” Darcy said, leaning against him. He snorted. 

“Put on stretchy pants?” he offered.

“These are my stretchy pants!” Darcy said, laughing. “I only own stretchy pants.” She sighed. “It’s death for me, then.”

“Are you sure you’re not a little Italian?” he teased. “Because that was dramatic, sweetheart.”

“I’ve heard she likes a little Italian in her,” David said in a low voice.

“Hey,” Brock said. “I will beat your ass.”

“Sure, sure, Pops,” David said loudly. “Don’t overextend yourself at your age.” There was a chorus of ooohs and whistles from the other end of the table. 

“Pops? You calling me a grandpa?” Brock said.

“You’re the one giving old man speeches and marrying a woman half your age,” David teased. 

“I’m not half his age,” Darcy said. At that, Brock felt smug. “I’m much, much younger than him though,” she said, grinning wickedly at Brock. He pretended to frown.

“I thought you were on my side,  _ sposina,” _ Brock said lightly. When she looked at him, he smiled, willing her to understand how good he felt. He wanted to wait until they were alone to really talk. Having his family around was like having an audience. He’d decided during dinner to take her aside after mass. Confess the full extent of his feelings. And he’d give her the Christmas present. A private, special moment between the two of them. 

“What did you call me?” she said, smiling.

“Little wife--” he began. Just then, Darcy’s phone rang and she looked away from him.

“It’s Jane, videocalling us,” she said, answering. “I haven’t heard from her much---hello!” Jane and Jack’s faces appeared onscreen.

“Merry Christmas!” they both said.

“Hi,” Darcy repeated, waving.

“Is that Jack?” Angela said. Brock looked up, distracted.

“Ma loves Jack,” Fallon told some of the relatives. “He’s so tall.”

“He’s a very nice man,” Angela said. “He’s dating Darcy’s boss now, the scientist who dated Thor.”

“The pretty one? From People magazine?” Jennifer said.

“Yup,” Fallon said. “You remember the one--” 

“Hey,” Brock said, peering over at Darcy’s phone. “Merry Christmas.” He frowned, trying to tune out the gossip and noise around them. “Where the hell are you?” It looked sunny, wherever they were. Not like DC.

“Don’t be rude,” Darcy said, swatting him. A few of his relatives laughed.

“Australia!” Jane yelled, voice echoing.

“We’re seeing my family and, uh,” Jack said, looking both proud and bashful.

“You got tickets to Australia on Christmas?” Brock said. Jack laughed.

“Also, Darce, you don’t need to be home soon--” Jane said.

“That’s the surprise,” Jack said. “We’re eloping!” they said together, beaming. 

“Ahhhh,” Darcy shrieked, causing several people in the vicinity to wince.

“What’s going on?” Angela said.

“For real?” Brock said, then caught himself. He looked at Darcy. She merely laughed and elbowed him, once the surprise had washed over her face.

“Really?” she said. “You’re married already? I missed it?”

“Not yet,” Jack averred. “We’re applying for the license.”

“So, his family will be there--” Jane said.

“And we’ll do something else in DC,” Jack said. “I expect you to stand up for me, mate.”

“Yeah, of course,” Brock said. “Of course I will.”

“Darce, you’ve got to help me with everything when we get back to DC,” Jane said brightly. “You can plan a reception, you’re great at that.”

“Oh em gee,” Darcy said. “Of course, I will.” She looked at Brock and back at Jane, wide-eyed. “You’re getting married!”

“Who’s getting married?” Jennifer said.

“Sounds like fucking everybody,” David said.

“Ma always said Jack would get married before you,” Fallon teased him. Brock sighed.

***

They all walked as a group to church. Darcy was still stunned by the elopement. “You okay? You’ve been quiet,” Brock said. He’d been looking at her as if he wanted to say something all night, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. She wondered if the elopement had freaked him out, too. 

“Yeah, I just--wow, you know?” she whispered. After they’d hung up, Angela had told her it would be great practice for their wedding and it had rocked Darcy a little. One real wedding, one fake one. Jane and Jack’s evident love made their subterfuge feel tawdry to her somehow. Cheap.

“Is it that stunning?” Brock said. “He’s been waiting for her to notice him, so he’s not letting her get away.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She wondered whether or not someone would ever feel like that about her? The church came into view. 

“Here were are,” Brock said. “It’ll be crowded.” He squeezed her hand. “You sure you’re all right?”

“I’m also really full,” she said. That part wasn’t faked. He laughed as their group walked towards the church steps. Darcy could hear music and voices. In the dark, the stained glass was especially beautiful when lit from inside. Jewel-like. She held onto the rail as they walked up the steps and inside, following Brock. For a moment, they were pressed into the crowd. Then they stepped into the sanctuary itself. The inside of Our Lady of Mount Carmel was even more beautiful than the photos, Darcy realized. She accidentally stopped in the aisle, holding Brock’s hand, when she got a full view of the altar and the painted dome above it. He looked back at her.

“You okay?” Brock said.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Really beautiful.” The church was decorated with lit candles and flowers. Marble columns stretched above her head. Distantly, the altar shimmered with gold leaf. He guided her and they wedged into a row. The pews were dark, glossy wood. She could smell incense. It was very lovely. 

“People show up for Christmas,” Brock said. Darcy nodded. “You never go to church?” he asked.

“A little,” Darcy said, “but only when I was very young. My grandma took me.” She’d only gone to a decoration-free Baptist church as a child. Darcy’s memories revolved around falling asleep slumped on the green velvet of the pews, as the two hour service droned on. She tried to pay attention throughout mass. She kept having thoughts about her Baptist grandmother, who’d always shunned alcohol and said weird stuff about Catholics. It was distracting. She copied Brock, getting up and down. She was flummoxed when the people in the row in front of them turned and shook their hands.

“Peace be upon you,” the man standing in front of Darcy said. There was a flurry of handshakes. She sort of stammered at a little girl and the girl laughed at her. That caught Brock’s attention and he tried to help. 

“You just say ‘and also with you,’” he explained.

“Ohhh,” Darcy said. “I told that little girl I was totally new.”

“You did?” he said, beaming.

“Well, I didn’t know there was a script!” she whispered.

“It’s not a script, baby. You neighbor wishes you peace, you say it back. ‘And also with you.’ Easy,” he said, smiling.

“No, no,” Fallon said, leaning forward from her seat behind them. “They changed it. It’s ‘and also with your spirit’ now.”

“What? What do you mean, they changed it?” he said.

“Shhhh,” Angela said. “Father George is talking about gratitude. Don’t embarrass me.” Brock grinned at Darcy. They made faces at each other. The part of the mass where they all got candles was really cool, Darcy thought. But it made her a smidge nervous she would burn something expensive and historic. She leaned in to whisper at Brock. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to set something on fire!” she said, looking at the paper holder for the thin white candle. 

“You’ll be fine,” he told her. “What?” His expression was curious.

“My Grandma Lewis would freak out if she knew Catholics had wine  _ and _ flammables,” she joked.

“How much would I freak her out?” he asked.

“Oh, all of this?” she said, gesturing with her candle. “Total freakout.” 

“Don’t set your hair on fire, sweetheart,” Brock said. “Or mine.”

“Eeep,” Darcy said. 

“Lemme take your candle,” he said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. “This is too much responsibility for me.” He laughed loudly enough that people looked at them. 

When mass ended, Darcy went to the bathroom and then wandered around the church by herself, looking at the art. Everything felt funny when she had time to think. What a weird little Christmas she was having. She’d pretended all these things with Brock’s family and it had gone completely opposite to their initial plan and she had a fake ring on her finger to explain. And Brock wanted her to pretend in DC? She wondered if he was thinking weeks or months? Darcy had no idea. She stopped in front of a saint’s portrait. Or Darcy assumed it was a saint. How did people keep them straight? There were so many saints and they all dressed the same. Darcy wasn’t especially religious, but she thought people needed things--people, ideas, stories--to believe in. It was just confusing when you were outside it, looking in. She’d spent a lot of time feeling like that, oddly. A supporting character in her own life. Jane’s intern. Jane’s assistant. Looking at Jane and Thor. Now Jane was really getting married to Jack? It seemed impossible. Well, maybe improbable, Jane would say. Not supported by previous data. Unless you counted how Jane attracted tall, exceptionally handsome men. How funny that they’d fallen in love while she and Brock were playing at it. Or Brock was. Darcy had realized that she couldn’t not feel for him, even as they joked about being on and off forever. It was impossible for her to be detached. She wasn't a detached person. She nodded in greeting at a passing priest, then heard him greet Brock. They were talking in a friendly way. “That’s my fiancée. Darcy, come here,” Brock said. She turned and walked over, saying hello. “We just got engaged,” Brock told him, smiling.

“Father George,” the priest said, shaking her hand gently. “You’re planning to be married here?”

“Um, can we?” Darcy said, looking at Brock. “Is that even...allowed?”

“She’s not Catholic,” Brock said. 

“I’m not Catholic,” Darcy said at the same time. The priest laughed.

“We could fix that,” he said.

“I don’t know,” Brock said. “She asks a lot of questions and candles make her nervous.” He said it with such obvious warmth that Father George grinned.

“I was just afraid I’d set something on fire,” Darcy insisted. “Things like that happen to me. I’m like, a complete Lucy. Lucille Ball, I mean. Headline:  _ Visiting Woman Burns Down Historic Bronx Church in Candle Mishap,”  _ she said, doing a voice.

“That’s her radio voice,” Brock said. He looked at George. “You all set for food? Because Ma could feed an army.”

“Her food is so good,” Darcy echoed.

“She’s trying to be a good daughter-in-law already,” Father George said.

“No, I just really like to eat,” Darcy said. 

“When’d they change the liturgy?” Brock said to Angela, as they left. The family had sort of formed a huddle on the sidewalk, waiting for everyone to come outside. Darcy gathered that people talked after the service. She was standing next to Brock, leaning her cheek against the fabric of his coat. He put an arm around her.

“Hmm?” Angela said.

“And also with your spirit?” he said. “I told Darcy the wrong thing? When did that happen?”

“How long has it been since you went to mass?” his mother said.

“I don’t like it,” Brock said stubbornly. “The real one’s better.”

“The real one?” Fallon said, laughing.

“My spirit doesn’t like the new one,” he said, clearly kidding. “We ready to go home, do presents?”

“Presents?” Darcy said. 

“Yes,” Fallon told her. “It used to irritate me so much that my friends’ parents let them do presents before mass and we had to wait.”

“Midnight’s nice, though,” Darcy said, looking around in the dark. Ahead of them, Jennifer and Cheryl were talking to Anita. Several of Brock’s cousins were laughing. As they passed the park, David goofed around with the fence.

“Cut that out,” Brock called out. He looked at Angela, shaking his head. “He’s gonna kill himself.”

“You were worse,” Angela said.

“Ma, my heart,” Brock said. “I’m wounded.” He pretended to hold his chest. Fallon snorted. “You save room for more panettone?” Brock said to Darcy as they walked. He’d had to slow down because she complained that she was too full to walk as fast as him. 

“Ugh, you’re just mocking me now,” Darcy said. “Mean.” They were the last ones to go to into the house. Brock stopped her suddenly.

“Darcy, I, uh--” he began, but Fallon leaned out of the security door.

“Get inside! I want to open presents,” she shouted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our Lady of Mount Caramel is very pretty IRL:


	10. Very Nearly Christmas Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Fine,” Brock said to his sister, sighing. He looked at Darcy. “I want to talk, okay? Later?”

“Okay,” she said, feeling butterflies in her stomach. What did he want? Was he having second thoughts about this charade? They went inside. Angela was already handing out drinks and snacks. Christmas music was playing.

“She lives to feed people,” Brock told Darcy. 

“People need food to live, Grandpa,” David told him.

“He’s just skinny,” Jennifer said. “He never eats.”

“Do you hear them, ragging me like this?” Brock said to her. He was smiling. He put his arm around her, squeezing. Darcy ducked her head. They swayed together a little. It felt very cozy. She tried not to think about how right he felt to her, sighing. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. 

They did presents for the kids first. Present-opening with this many people was wild. Darcy marveled at the piles of shredded paper, kids hyped up on _nepitelle_ and Christmas cookies, and general conversational volume. Darcy passed out Brock’s gifts, then got his gift and the ones for his mother and sister. People joked about Brock actually buying them gifts. Darcy raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m usually too busy,” he said. “With work.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, wiggling into his lap. Fallon was opening her gift. Darcy had bought Angela and Fallon--and her own mother--fragrance diffuser sets with a porcelain flower on top. Little, but nice, she’d thought. She watched Angela unwrap hers. The white flower gleamed against the darker glass base. 

“Oh, Darcy,” Angela said, “this is too much. Too much.” Darcy shook her head.

“It’s a fragrance oil diffuser,” Darcy explained. “You put the oil in the bottom and it diffuses up through the flower.” She realized Brock was watching them. 

“I love mine,” Fallon said. “Mike, look. Isn’t this cool?” Darcy had bought them different flowers. “Where’s Darcy’s present from you?” Fallon asked Brock. “I know you bought one!”

“You better have,” Angela said. 

“I’m giving that to her when we’re alone,” Brock said.

“You can open mine now,” Darcy said. “I know you’ll like it.” He grinned as he opened it, then laughed outright when she leaned over and whispered, “I did surveillance on your bathroom cabinet.” He kissed her again.

“C’mon, Brock, you can’t just let her not open hers,” Fallon said, tilting her head. She got the cousins to razz him about it being something dirty until Brock glared. 

“I have a gun,” he said.

“Oooh, he has a gun!” Jennifer said. Then they all teased him about buying her something cheap.

“C’mon, tightwad,” Jimmy called across the room. “She got you the nice cologne.” Brock blinked, sighed, then smiled at Darcy and reached into his pocket.

“Here,” Brock said, sighing. “I really hope I picked out the right thing, sweetheart.” Darcy couldn't understand why he hesitated handing her the box. She tore off the paper and opened the velvet box slowly. There was a pendant inside. A rose gold key with a shimmer of diamonds. She wouldn’t have picked out for herself, but it looked stunning.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “I love it.” She held it up, so it sparkled under the Christmas lights.

“Ooooh, he didn’t cheap out!” Fallon said.

“No,” Brock said, frowning at his sister. “Why would I do that, Fal?”

“I really love it,” Darcy repeated, wondering why he’d bought her something else so nice. It matched her fake engagement ring. Was that why? She looked at him. His expression was unreadable. He was looking at his sister, but turned when he realized Darcy was looking at him.

“Good,” Brock said, giving her a soft look. “Lemme help you. Hold your hair for me?” 

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at her lap as he sat behind her. He hung the necklace around Darcy’s neck and kissed her cheek. His stubble tickled against her skin.

“You got her _more_ jewelry?” David yelled from across the room.

“A necklace!” Fallon yelled back.

“We know what somebody’s unwrapping for Christmas tonight,” Jimmy cracked.

“I’m going to get you something to drink,” Brock said, getting up abruptly. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, watching as he walked away. She looked down at the necklace against her chest. “This is very fancy,” she said, mostly to herself.

“It’s stunning,” Angela said. It occurred to Darcy that this was exactly the sort of glitzy gift that Angela would appreciate. His mother was already wearing the dangly earrings he’d given her. Maybe that had given Brock the idea? 

He would probably want her to return it, right? 

“I’ll be right back,” Darcy said, getting up and going into the kitchen. She found him pouring her some prosecco. “Brock?” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “If this is too expensive and we need to return it…?” she offered, whispering in his ear.

“What?” he said, turning his head. “No, baby.” He slid out of her embrace and turned to face her. “I just have to get used to all my relatives killing the romance whenever we’re here,” he said, sighing and resettling his hands on her hips.

“Killing the romance?” Darcy said, pitching her voice low.

“I wanted a fucking romantic moment, I get Kevin implying I bought you sex toys or that I’m cheap,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “This family.”

“Ohh,” Darcy said. “Okay.” She still didn’t understand, not fully. Did he mean that he wanted to _appear_ romantic? 

“We’ll talk upstairs, when we’re alone,” he said, nuzzling her. “About the future.” He kissed her. The future? It was confusing, but she’d ask him later, she thought, as he sucked her top lip gently. 

“Mmmm,” Darcy said, melting slightly in his arms. She was sleepy and a little tipsy. He kissed her more eagerly.

“Hey, no sex in the kitchen, pervs,” Fallon said from behind them. Startled, Darcy jumped. 

“Fal,” Brock said, pulling his mouth away from Darcy and tucking her against his chest with a sigh.

“I’m here because Ma wanted me to remind you that Jennifer and Cheryl are crashing on the air mattress in your room tonight, so keep it in your pantssssss,” she singsonged. Brock tilted his head and looked pissed.

“Great,” he said, mouth twisting. “I forgot everyone stays here until they’re safe to drive.”

“It’s okay,” Darcy said. She turned to look at Fallon. “What if we take the air mattress and they take the mattress mattress?”

“I’ll ask,” Fallon said. She bounced off.

“You’re a saint,” Brock said, still irritated-looking. “Run away with me?”

“What?” Darcy said, laughing.

“I think Jack had the right idea. Let’s put a continent and several oceans between us and my family--”

“Brock,” Darcy said.

“We could get married on the beach,” he said. 

“I don’t tan!” Darcy said, laughing and wondering what had gotten into him. “And isn’t that not the point?” she added in a whisper. “Why am I here again?”

“Because I need you,” he groused. He squeezed her a little closer. His grimace fell away. “We could put the air mattress in the utility room?” he said, smirking. “You wanna?”

“Ooooh,” Darcy said. “I’m not opposed.” 

His mother vetoed the idea. “Darcy will freeze to death!” Angela said, getting laughs out the relatives that were crashing on the living room floor.

“Wonderful,” Brock said glumly. They went upstairs to blow up the air mattress. 

“It’ll be okay,” Darcy said, trying to comfort him as he swore and inflated. Finally, Brock stood. “Have I mentioned”--she slid her hand under his sweater-- “that I’m liking the chest hair?” He hadn’t shaved since they’d left DC. The combination of aggressive five o’clock shadow and chest hair was yummy.

“You’re just trying to cheer me up,” he said, pouting.

“Possibly, but that doesn’t make it less true,” she said. He gave her an intense look. “What?” Darcy said. 

“I want you know that I---” Brock started.

“Are you having sex in here?” his aunt Cheryl yelled, rapping on the door. 

“She had more prosecco,” Darcy said, grinning. Cheryl threw open the door.

“Ah ha!” she said. “Oh, wait, you’re not--?”

“--I really love you,” Brock finished in a flat voice. “Please don’t leave me because my family is fucking insane.”

“Are they having sex?” Jennifer yelled from down the hall. 

“Noooooo,” Cheryl yelled back. Brock shook his head and looked so aggrieved that Darcy laughed.

“Jesus,” Brock said. Darcy looked at him sympathetically. 

“Don’t worry, I’m staying,” she said. “Plus, I kind of like them.” He sighed. She wondered why he looked so bugged out, but when she asked why, he just shook his head. They got ready for bed. The bedtime shuffle was especially noisy and funny with Cheryl and Jennifer going in and out with them on the floor mattress. 

“I swear to God,” Brock said, “if one of you steps on this mattress one more time--”

“Sure, Brock-oli,” Jennifer said.

“Broccoli?” Darcy said, sitting up on the other side of him.

“That’s what Fallon called him when they were kids,” Cheryl said. Darcy giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth at Brock’s dark expression.

“Because she was annoying,” Brock bit out. “Did you have to tell Darcy?”

“I think it’s cute. Also, broccoli is my favorite vegetable,” she said to him, rubbing his shoulder. She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Merry Christmas, Broccoli,” Darcy said mirthfully.

“Christ,” he muttered, then gave her a look that was evident even in the dark. “Next year, we’ll go somewhere warm,” he said.

“Sure,” Darcy said, cuddling him. “I’ll go wherever you want to take me--next year.” She grinned at the idea. 

“Mexico,” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere nice and warm in Mexico.”

“Okay,” Darcy said quietly, knowing the likelihood of spending Christmas in Mexico next year was slim to none. It was nice to imagine, though. The two of them in a warm bed and the faint scent of jasmine, she thought.

Brock was snoring in her ear when Darcy’s phone rang. She scrambled to grab it. “Hello?” Darcy said, seeing her mother’s name on the screen. “Mom?”

“Oh, Darcy,” her mom said, crying. “I’m at the hospital.”

“What?” Darcy said, sitting up. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Tom had a heart attack. He’s in the ICU,” she said, voice choked. “The girls were fighting and he just got so upset--I--I know this is interrupting your holiday--”

“I’ll get a plane ticket as soon as I can, Mom,” Darcy said. “It’s going to be okay, all right? Let me look up tickets and call you back with my ETA, all right?”

“Okay,” her mother said, sounding emotional. 

“I’ll be quick,” Darcy said. "Love you." She booked a ticket, called her mom back, and made arrangements for a friend of her mother’s to pick her up at RDU. She had woken Fallon and Mike to see about a ride to LaGuardia and was lacing up her boots when Brock stirred.

“Baby? Whatcha doing?” he said, sounding sleepy.

“I have to go, Mike is taking me to the airport,” Darcy said. Brock sat up, suddenly alert.

“What?” he said.

“My mom’s boyfriend is in the ICU. He had a heart attack. They think he’ll be okay, but she needs help and someone to watch the dogs--I’m really sorry.”

“Fuck,” Brock said. “I’ll get dressed. You pay for the tickets already?”

“Tickets?” she said, confused.

“The plane tickets,” he said. “I’ll give you money for both of them, sweetheart.”

 _“Oh.”_ Darcy realized he thought they were going together. “That’s so sweet, honey, but you should stay here, spend Christmas Day with your mom. There’s no reason for you to go,” she told Brock. “Really, it’ll just be me, either at the hospital or feeding two very hyper rescue dogs and washing clothes for my mom? One of us should get to stay here with the _nepitelle,”_ she joked. “I do need to go thank your mom, if she’s awake. If she’s asleep, please tell her I had a wonderful time,” Darcy added. Brock frowned at her. 

He was still frowning in the backseat of Mike’s car as they headed for the airport. “Darcy, let me go with you,” Brock said, for about the fifth time.

“It’s okay,” she insisted, feeling wildly guilty that he looked so worried. “I am going to be fine. They’ve upgraded Tom’s prognosis, my mom texted me. She still doesn’t want to leave the hospital, though.” Darcy fiddled with the edge of her messenger bag. Brock sighed and grimaced out the window, looking unhappy.

“What terminal?” Mike asked. Darcy told him. Fallon yawned in the front seat.

“I’m sad you’ve got to go,” she told Darcy. 

“I should go with you,” Brock repeated. “Nobody wants their fiancée doing this stuff alone.” Darcy sighed, then curled her hands around his forearm.

“I don’t want you to miss out on time with your family,” she said softly. He gave her a look. 

“You’re mine, too,” Brock said in a low voice.

“Awwww,” Fallon said.

“Isn’t he cute?” Darcy said. “I think I should kiss you until we get there, in case this plane Bermuda Triangles,” she joked.

“Not funny,” he said, but he kissed her anyway. Fallon actually snickered, he was kissing her so eagerly. When they got to the drop-off, Brock surprised her by getting out, too. He helped Darcy with her bags. “Let me go with you,” Brock said. “I’ll go inside, buy a ticket, help you in Raleigh.”

“It’s okay, Brock,” she said. He really was pretending to be the perfect guy. “I’ll, um, call you when I get there?” she added. That was a normal thing to say, right? Fallon and Mike were watching, after all. Brock surprised her by hugging her tightly, then giving her a serious look.

“You want me there, I’ll be there, just call,” he said. Darcy nodded.

“Okay. I gotta go,” she said. She was rolling her suitcase towards the entrance door when he called out to her. 

“I love you,” Brock said. Darcy turned back and waved.

“Love you, too,” she called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pick your own Xmas key pendant for this chapter, although I love this one:


	11. Do You Want The Moon, Darcy Lewis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy landed at RDU and was met by her mother’s favorite coworker, Melissa. Darcy liked Melissa. “Hi, honey,” she said, hugging Darcy. “Your mom said you were engaged? Where’s the ring?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, blushing. “It’s under here,” she said, waving a gloved hand. “Shouldn’t we get in the car?” she asked. They ticketed you if you parked on the curb. But she still showed Melissa the ring in the car.

“Pretty! He didn’t come with you?” Melissa asked.

“He wanted to, but I thought he should get to enjoy the holidays with his mom,” Darcy said. “He travels a lot for work, so….” She cleared her throat. “Mom said Tom was doing okay?” she asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

“He’s up and talking, but they’re observing him. What’s the fiancé’s mother like?” Melissa asked, as they got on I-40, headed to Rex Hospital. Darcy plugged in the directions in her phone. “Do you like her?” Melissa asked.

“I do,” Darcy said. “I really do. She’s very nice and she fed me seafood until I could barely walk. I like his whole family.” 

“That’s wonderful,” Melissa said. “John’s mother can’t stand me.” John was her husband. 

“I think his mom likes me, but I'm not saying it wouldn't be better if I was a nice Catholic girl,” Darcy said. That made Melissa laugh. They threaded through traffic. Darcy missed Brock already. Should she text him? Wouldn’t that be the normal thing to do? She tapped out a brief message and was startled when her phone rang. Brock’s face flashed onscreen. “Hello?” Darcy said.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “Your plane landed?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“That him?” Melissa said.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “We’re on our way to the hospital,” she told Brock. 

“I miss you,” he said quietly. She could almost believe it. His voice was so sincere.

“Miss you, too,” she said, honestly.

“Awwwww,” Melissa trilled, then honked the horn. “Try using your turn signal!” she yelled at the car ahead of them.

“Everything okay?” Brock said, sounding more curious.

“Raleigh traffic,” Darcy said. “Everything okay there?”

“Same old, same old,” he said. “Ma and Fallon are arguing about the lasagna, Jimmy’s here eating all the leftovers and trying to drag me out to smoke.” He sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy said.

“You shoulda let me come with you,” he said. He dropped his voice. “Darcy, I should be there--” he began. Melissa honked the horn, just as Darcy’s phone app gave out instructions.

“What?” Darcy said. “Hold on.” She looked at Melissa. “The next one is our exit, right?”

“Yes,” Melissa said. 

“Brock, I’m going to have to call you back,” Darcy said. “Okay?”

“All right,” he said, sighing. “Call me later?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said. She tried not to feel things as she said it. Melissa smiled at her. 

“I’ll drop you off at the nearest entrance. Liz said you could take her car home,” the other woman said.

“Okay,” Darcy said.

The hospital linoleum squeaked under Darcy’s feet as she rolled her suitcase behind her. She was rounding a corner when she saw her mom standing in a hallway. Liz looked like she hadn’t slept: her short gray hair was rumpled and she had on yoga pants and a long sweater. “Mom!” Darcy said. Liz turned and the worried look on her face turned momentarily joyful. She hugged Darcy extra tight. 

“Thank God you’re here, I missed you so much,” Liz said. She looked around before whispering. “It’s been a mad house,” she said in a low voice. “The girls are still fighting.”

“What?” Darcy said, gobsmacked. Before her mom could answer, Darcy heard shouting from inside a nearby room.

“I cannot believe you’re blaming me for this!” Keri yelled. That was Tom’s brunette daughter. Her older sister, Kelly, unleashed a string of swear words in response. Kelly was the blonde one who was really good at hair pulling. Darcy looked at her mom.

“In a hospital?” she whispered urgently. “A hospital?!” 

“Nonstop,” Liz said, shaking her head. “Tom has been sleeping through most of it, thank God.”

“What can I do to help?” Darcy said.

“Be my backup when I try to break this up and feed the dogs?” her mom said.

“Deal,” Darcy said. They walked into the hospital room. Tom was hooked to a variety of machines, apparently asleep, as his daughters bickered. Darcy parked her suitcase by the door.

“If you hadn’t started the argument--” Keri was saying.

“Your husband is the one who has a problem with my boyfriend!” Kelly cut in.

“Well, if he hadn’t sold him that lemon of a car--” Keri said.

“Girls,” Liz said. “Keri, Kelly. Please!”

“Hey!” Darcy yelled, clapping her hands. The two women turned at the sound of a new voice. “This is a freaking hospital. At least take it to the parking lot.” They gaped at her.

“You remember my daughter, Darcy,” Liz said. “The one who works in DC?”

“Hello,” Darcy said.

“Hey, Darcy,” Tom said, eyes opening slowly. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Tom,” Darcy said politely. 

“Congratulations,” Tom said. “She’s engaged,” he added. “Sorry my little incident dragged you down here.”

“It’s okay, Tom,” Darcy said. 

“Oh,” Keri said. “Congratulations.”

“Show them your ring,” Liz said, clearly desperate for a diversion. Darcy held her hand out. They ohh’d and ahh’d.

“I like that pink color,” Keri said.

“It’s real pretty,” Kelly said. There was a freighted silence. A nurse came in to check on Tom and frowned at them.

“Can we keep down the noise today?” she said archly.

“Yes,” both women repeated, looking chagrined. Darcy looked at her mom. Liz gave her a look in response that clearly telegraphed _we’ll see how long this lasts._

Darcy stayed at the hospital all day. She did the normal daughter-slash-assistant stuff: getting coffee and snacks, taking notes when the doctors and nurses stopped by, and generally trying to keep her mom optimistic and the daughters from fighting. They told Tom jokes and he chuckled weakly. Things got tense between Keri and Kelly when their husbands and kids showed up, but Darcy asked someone to help her find kid-appropriate snacks and effectively separated them. That seemed to do the trick. Also, she told her mom about Jane and Jack’s elopement.

“Jane’s getting married?” Liz said. “Cautious Jane?” She looked stunned.

“I know! It’s all very sudden, but she seems really happy,” Darcy said.

“Wow,” Liz said. 

“He’s very tall, very handsome, and Australian,” Darcy said. She showed them a photo.

“Oh, yeah,” Keri said. “He looks like, uh--?”

“Matthew McConaughey, but better-looking?” Kelly said. Keri nodded.

“Yep, that’s it!” she told her sister.

“He has the accent, too,” Darcy said, clicking play on a video Jane had uploaded. Lucky Jane was spending Christmas at an actual beach. You could hear Jack talking.

“Ooooh,” Kelly said.

“He sounds exactly like Hugh Jackman,” Keri said. Liz peered over as Darcy scrolled. Then she stopped. Jane had taken a photo of Darcy and Brock as they stood in front of the Kiss & Ride sign. She was beaming. Darcy expected that. What she didn’t expect was that Jane had caught Brock giving her a soft look.

“I think my future son-in-law is better-looking,” Liz said, bumping Darcy’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Darcy said, smiling to herself and then realizing she really, truly meant it. She considered Jack a handsome guy, but Brock had all her attention. He wasn’t just handsome, he was devastatingly handsome. Sexy. Funny. Intelligent. The kind of person whose opinions were entertaining. Sometimes sweet. He was also irritating. Stubborn. Sarcastic. A total wiseass. She felt a kind of push-pull whenever he was around. Darcy was uncertain of his feelings, but drawn to him nonetheless. He made her completely crazy and yet she wished he was with her right now. She imagined him giving the sisters serious side-eye and falling asleep in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the hallway. She could picture it clearly in her mind. She was happier when he was around, even if she was just listening to Brock being grumpy. _Damn,_ she thought, as Keri and Kelly peered at the photo of Brock. _I’m done for._ “He’s the best guy I’ve ever met,” she said, twisting her necklace.

“Did he buy you that, too?” Keri asked.

“You must really like pink,” her sister added.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. 

“Please tell me you like your fiancé’s family?” Liz said, before Darcy left the hospital that evening. Her mom was spending the night and had walked downstairs with her, out of earshot. Liz was giving Darcy her keys, so she could drive her mom’s car home. The sisters were supposed to go home, but each was trying to be the last to leave. They were competitive like that. Luckily, they were behaving better around her because she was a virtual stranger. Darcy smiled at her mom.

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you,” she said. 

“They’ll be fine, I think they’ve worn themselves out for today. The real trouble will be with New Year’s and the alcohol.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Darcy said, pulling a face. 

“You didn’t answer my question, though. Do you really like them?” her mom asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, feeling a weird, anxious wave of sadness when she was reminded that she’d been lying to Brock’s family. “I really like them, Mom. Don’t worry,” she added. “It’ll be okay.” _Because this isn’t going to last,_ her brain supplied.

“Good. I want you to have a big, nice family,” Liz said. “Or a small nice one. Just let them be nice!”

“All right,” Darcy said. “Call me if you want me to bring anything else tomorrow?” She was going home to feed her mom’s rescue dogs and bring her fresh clothes. 

“I’m just so glad you’re here,” Liz said. “I can’t think of anything.”

“You’ll remember as soon as I leave,” Darcy said. “Text me a list.” She hugged her mom, then rolled her suitcase towards the exit.

“Darcy!” Liz called, as she neared the automatic doors. “I just remembered! Glasses cleaner,” her mom said, touching her frames. “I’m all smudgy.”

“I love the new purple frames,” Darcy said back. “They’re very cool.”

“Of course they are,” her mom said. “You get all your coolness from me. Say hi to Brock for me?”

“I will,” Darcy said. She didn’t think she’d talk to him tonight, but there was no harm in a little white lie. 

The local radio station was still playing Christmas music as Darcy drove to her mom’s house. It didn’t feel like Christmas anymore, though. She pulled up at the townhouse with a sigh. The neighborhood Christmas lights were still up, but she was going to be all alone. It would be weird to be all alone. Thank goodness for the dogs. She parked in the garage, then went in to let the dogs out. As soon as her key went into the lock, the dogs started to bark. Her mom had one lab mix--Hershey, very happy, obviously chocolate, and innocently destructive--and Charlie, a fuzzy-haired terrier of uncertain origins and strong opinions. Of the two of them, Charlie was the most likely to be offended or anxious at being left alone all day. “Hey, guys!” Darcy said. “How are you?” She leaned down and was promptly given a wet, enthusiastic kiss by Hershey. The lab’s tail whirlygig’d in a circle and nearly took down the Nutcracker resting on the table by the door. “Ooops, watch out,” Darcy said. Next to Hershey, Charlie was bouncing up and down, making pitiful whining sounds. “Okay, let’s go pee!” Darcy announced. “Who wants to pee?” The dogs wagged their tails at her. She took them out into the small backyard, let them use the bathroom, and then threw some tennis balls until Hershey panted. “Okay,” Darcy said. “First, we have water, then we rest and eat, all right?” She pointed at Hershey. “No bloat! You got that?” she asked. Hershey dropped his tennis ball into the water bowl, then sloshed his face in a big circle. He got water all over the deck. “Why does he do that?” Darcy asked Charlie. Charlie wagged his tail. 

She fed the dogs, started some laundry, and packed a new hospital bag for her mom. Just to have some conversation, she turned on the TV. _It’s A Wonderful Life_ was on. Darcy sat on the couch, in the shadow of her mother’s Christmas tree. Her childhood ornaments--snowflakes made of beads on wire, glass balls that Darcy had painted badly--sparkled in the dark of the living room. Without knowing why, Darcy started to cry. Hershey came and leaned his head against Darcy’s thigh. “Thanks, buddy,” she said in a choked voice, rubbing his head. The lab’s helicoptering tail threatened to knock the magazines off the coffee table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I envision Jamie Lee Curtis as Liz.


	12. Post-Holiday Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I’m going to go find a vending machine,” Darcy told her mom. “I think we need Snickers.” She’d just brought them both coffee. 

“I’d love chocolate,” her mom said. Liz was sitting by Tom’s bed, looking exhausted. Tom’s daughters had been arguing in the hospital all morning. “Thank God Keri smokes, it’s the only way we get a break,” Liz whispered. Tom was snoring gently. Darcy laughed, probably too loudly. “Shhh,” Liz said.

“I’ll be back,” Darcy said. She left the room, her shoes squeaking on the waxed floors. She’d had a headache since last night’s weird crying episode. She couldn’t bring herself to call Brock. It felt too weird. Circling the floor, she discovered a vending machine tucked in a corner. As she fed it a dollar, she studied her reflection in the glass. She looked tired. She was tired. She missed him. But she was afraid to call him--afraid that all her stressed out emotions would bubble over, she’d weep on the phone, and he’d be baffled. Baffled and put off. If he dismissed her feelings, she’d be hurt. She sighed heavily as the first Snickers wound its way off the circle and landed with a thunk. Her phone rang as she was plugging in B3 again for a second candy bar and Darcy felt a burst of hopefulness. She scrambled for her phone. It took her two rings to find it, as she panicked, before pulling it out of the recesses of her messenger bag. She tapped the accept call button before she read the screen. “Hey--” Darcy said hurriedly.

“Hiiiiii!” a female voice trilled. It wasn’t Brock, she realized with a sinking sensation in her chest. It was Jane. 

“Hey! It’s the bride!” Darcy said. “How are things going?”

“Oh my gosh, I need your help. I’m buying a little dress, just a small one. For the ceremony. Can you look at pictures for me? Or videochat?”

“Of course,” Darcy said. She dropped off her mom’s candy bar, then found a quiet corner of the hospital and they video called each other. She watched as Jane showed her dress options from half a world away. 

“I really love this lace one,” Jane said. “But it’s a hundred and fifty dollars!”

“You’ll remember it the rest of your life,” Darcy said, chewing her Snickers. 

“Ahhh! I will, won’t I?”

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Where’s the ceremony?”

“We’re going to have a friend of Jack’s marry us on the beach,” Jane said. “It won’t be legal--”

“Oh, no!” Darcy said. 

“It turns out you’d have to have filed all the paperwork a few weeks ago? But his parents will be there!” Jane said. Her voice was excited. 

“I’m so thrilled for you,” Darcy said. “Do you have your something blue and--”

“I sort of borrowed your earrings for the trip,” Jane confessed. “That pair I love?”

“That’s awesome,” Darcy said, laughing. “I’m so glad you’re an earring thief.”

***

“Fal, can I talk to you?” Brock whispered to his sister. He’d caught her in the hallway. She looked at him in confusion. “It’s important, okay?” he added

“Is that why you’ve been hiding from everyone upstairs all morning? I had to do the dishes,” she complained. “Because everyone thinks you’re sad because Darcy had to go, so they all feel sorry for you--” she was saying, as he sank onto the bed with a sigh.

“Shut the door, I need to tell you something,” he said. “I don’t want Ma to overhear.”

“You’re being weird. Why are you weird?”

“Just shut the fucking door. Why don’t you listen when I ask you things?” Brock said.

“All right, fine, butthead,” Fallon said. “What is it?”

“Uhhh,” he began, rubbing his jaw. It was embarrassing. He didn’t know where to start. “I, uh, I love Darcy,” he said. That was the important thing. That he loved her. He looked up. His sister was staring at him, arms crossed.

“Yeah. And?” she said.

“Shit,” Brock muttered. He rubbed his face with both hands and haltingly began to explain their real relationship. “We were just casual at first,” he said. “Not serious. But when Ma invited her up here, we agreed to, uh, pretend like we were, just to get Ma off my back and things just, things snowballed, with the engagement--” he said, swallowing. “We were pretending, but I want it. To be married to her.” He couldn’t look at Fallon. So he didn’t see her face change between confusion, shock, and mirth.

“Oh my God!” she shrieked. Brock jerked his head up. “You complete ass,” she said. “Wait, did you just _Hallmark movie_ our mother?” 

“I don’t fucking know what that means?” Brock said, fairly sure he had. They’d watched Hallmark together before they left DC. Darcy liked to make fun of the Christmas plots and jokingly called them “the NBA playoffs for suburban white girls, Brock.”

“You pretended to be engaged to Darcy and fell in love with her!” Fallon said.

“Shhh,” Brock said, “keep your voice down. I was in love with her before, I just didn’t know it.”

“Uh-huh,” Fallon said, laughing.

“But how do I tell her?” he said, sighing.

“She doesn’t know?” Fallon said. “How have you not told her?”

“We’re never alone!” he shot back. “We were sleeping on that fucking air mattress with Aunt Cheryl eavesdropping--”

“Oh, you really did just decide, huh?” Fallon said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Fuck. What if she says no?”

“That’s not possible,” Fallon said. “Why don’t you talk to her?”

“She was supposed to call me last night,” he said glumly. She hadn’t called. He felt paralyzed. What if she didn’t want him like that?

“Are your fingers broken?” Fallon asked. She pulled out her phone. “It’s simple, you idiot.”

“What are--? Fal!” he said, as she cackled and dialed. He attempted to grab her phone, but she’d already hit the button to place the call.

“It’s ringing!” she said. “Hi, Darcy! Are you okay? We’re great--oh my God, what’s that?” Fallon said, frowning.

“Give me the phone,” Brock said. He took the phone from his sister. “Baby?” he said. There was noise on the line. Female voices yelling.

“Brock?” Darcy said, sounding tentative. He felt a flood of relief when he heard her voice. “Sorry, Keri and Kelly are fighting in the hallway. Hospital security is on the way.”

“Are you all right?” he said. He didn’t give a single fuck about Keri, Kelly, or anyone else. Just Darcy. And he should probably care about her mother. Who might be his future mother-in-law. Shit, he thought. He would have a mother-in-law. 

“Yeah,” she said. 

“You sound tired, baby,” he said quietly. Fallon opened his bedroom door.

“Just bring me back my phone,” she said, with unexpected softness, shutting the door behind her. 

“I’m a little tired,” Darcy said. The sound of her voice in his ear did things to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I was there--”

“I helped Jane pick out a wedding dress,” Darcy said, sounding more cheery. He thought she might be trying to disguise her feelings. “That’s been my high point for the day. How about you?”

“I, uh, I’ve mostly been hiding from everybody,” he said. He paused, swallowed. Studied the wallpaper on the walls. “And missing you,” he added, chest tight. “I miss you so fucking much.” He realized that his voice was cracking a little.

“Oh,” she said. “Really?”

“Fuck yes,” he said. 

“I miss you, too,” she said, voice low. This was it, he thought. The moment he could tell her. He cleared his throat. 

“Darcy, I’m in l---” he said, before there was an abrupt thud on the line.

“Oh, I’ve gotta go, the hospital cops are here and they’re resisting,” she cut in. “I’ll call you! Soon!” There was an abrupt beep. 

“Darcy?” he said. The line was silent. “Fuck,” Brock said, staring at the call ended message as it flashed on his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this fic!


	13. Bail Me Out, Santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“What do you mean, you and Darcy aren’t engaged?” Angela said. Brock swallowed. He’d been trying to get a flight to North Carolina all day, begging for a seat and being transferred between carriers. The problem was, everyone was flying today, it seemed. His visible frustration had turned audible when he swore at an automated Delta system and now his mother had cornered him in the kitchen. Half the story--minus some details that might upset his mother--had come tumbling out.

“We’re gonna be engaged,” Brock said, almost grimly. “If she’ll have me.” His head ached. It was all the holiday muzak and the anxiety of not knowing what she’d say once he got to Raleigh. Would she turn him down?

“If?” Angela said, expression exasperated. “Whaddya mean if?” Her voice had gone up sharply.

“They were hooking up, Ma,” Fallon said, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

“Hooking up?” Angela repeated. Fallon grinned brightly and nodded. She was wearing a sweater that said _Fa-la-la-llama_ and had a llama on it. Darcy would love it, Brock registered, between his bouts of irritation with his sister and general panic.

“Fal,” Brock said, wincing. “Please don’t fucking make it worse.”

“Your sister is not the problem,” Angela told him. “Explain yourself.”

“All right, all right,” Brock said. He held his hands up in surrender and pulled out a chair for Angela. “Lemme explain, Ma. Okay?”

“Fine,” Angela said. She was glaring now. “Explain to me how you brought a woman into my house under false pretenses--at Christmas!” She clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.

“I love Darcy,” Brock said. “Nothing about Christmas was a lie, okay? She wasn’t pretending anything with you, Ma. She was being herself. Okay?” He looked seriously at his mother. 

“Okay,” Angela said. “She was being herself.”

“Absolutely,” Brock said, sighing heavily. “She’s exactly like that in--always. She’s always that person. We were casually seeing each other, but I realized while she was here that this is what I want.”

“He’s in love with her,” Fallon said.

“I am,” Brock said stubbornly. “So, she’ll be here, if---”

“He hasn’t told her that he loves her yet, like an idiot,” Fallon said. “She doesn’t know. She thinks he’s just pretending to be in love with her to impress the family.”

“Oh my God,” Angela said. “You let her leave?! How could you let her leave?”

“He’s an idiot,” Fallon said. “Like I said.”

“I’m an idiot,” Brock admitted. He put his face in his hands, groaning. “I gotta find a way to get to North Carolina.”  
  


***

“I’ve never bailed anyone out of jail before, Mom,” Darcy said. She and her mother were bailing Keri and Kelly out of jail. The hospital cops had called actual cops and things had snowballed when--despite the real cops' stern lectures--Keri had gotten snarky with one of them. Dumb move. Then she’d actually tried to spit on the cop. Darcy had watched, stunned, as she got cuffed on the linoleum floor. It was An Event. Unfortunately, she was the only one who was amused by anything today.

“This is my second court appearance with them,” Liz said, irritated-sounding. Tom had given them instructions. And his checkbook. Darcy was fairly certain that only her presence had prevented her mother and Tom from verbally squabbling at the hospital.

“Really?” Darcy said, as they slowed. Traffic was heavy on the Beltline.

“Tom had to help Keri get a restraining order against one of her boyfriends last year,” Liz said. “I went then.” They took an exit that led them to downtown Raleigh.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Sounds like an adventure.”

“Just be glad your fiancé’s family isn’t like this,” Liz said sharply. Her tone was harsh. Darcy repressed a sigh. Her mom had been unusually upset since the girls got arrested. Darcy chalked it up to Tom’s emergency and the stress of the fighting, but it was starting wear on her, getting her head bitten off. Plus, embarrassment.

“Sure,” Darcy said. “His family’s very different.” She stared out the window, a sea of red tail lights visible ahead. She missed Brock. Should she call him? Darcy tried to call Brock again. She kept going straight to voicemail, like he was on the phone. Weird. She hung up without leaving a message. He never talked on the phone. She could text him, right? It might be stupid, but he’d said he missed her, too. Maybe make it sound breezy and light?

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I really, really miss you, too. I’m headed to jail now. Wish me luck! 

“And here we are,” Liz said, “but we have to find parking.” They were passing the Wake County Sheriff’s Office. Darcy silenced her phone after hitting send on the text.

“Huh,” Darcy said. They were just down the street from the auditorium where she’d gone to several concerts. “I had no idea this was so near the performing arts center. Do you think we could park in their parking deck?” she wondered. They circled the block and then stopped to ask an attendant.  
  


***

“Shit,” Brock said. He stared at his phone. He’d been on the phone with American Airlines when she’d texted him. “Why is she going to jail?”

“What?” his mother asked.

“Darcy’s going to jail,” Brock said. “What the fuck?” He stared at the text bubble, utterly confused. He tapped back a message, telling her to call him immediately. He put the last word in all caps. 

“It’s probably those women,” Fallon said. “The stepsister women? They were fighting on the phone at the hospital.”

“The ones from the video?” Angela said.

“Yeah,” Fallon said, raising her eyebrows. “Crazy, right? Who are you calling--” she asked Brock.

“Friend from work,” Brock said, covering the receiver. A female voice picked up.

“Hello?” she said.

“Romanoff, I need you to help me with Darcy. She left for Raleigh--look, it’s complicated, okay?”

“It’s complicated?” Fallon said, snorting. Brock glared at her and saw his mother’s shake of her head in his peripheral vision, as he tried to concentrate on Romanoff’s words. She’d asked him a question.

“She’s in jail, or at a jail? I’m not fucking sure, I just need to get down there, all right?” he said. Across the kitchen, his mother sighed. “What’s wrong, Ma?” he asked.

“Why did you let her leave?” his mother complained. “She wouldn’t be at a jail if she’d stayed here!”

“I know, Ma,” Brock sighed out. “I know.” He tilted his head towards his cell phone. Romanoff had come back to the line. “She hasn’t been arrested? Thank fucking God.”

“It was them being arrested, I knew it!” Fallon said. 

***

“They’re still being processed,” Liz said, sitting next to Darcy with a thump of frustration.

“So, we’ve got to wait?” Darcy said to her mother. She was sitting on a bench at the station; she’d waited while her mother talked to the on-duty desk sargeant. Darcy had offered to go, too, thinking she could name drop SHIELD or Thor and get them somewhere, but her mom had said no. Darcy was feeling a little slighted. She knew people!

“It could be hours,” Liz said. Darcy looked around. The station still had Christmas lights up. “We’re just stuck here,” she fumed. “I’m calling Tom.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She had an idea. “I’m going to go buy some donuts.” There was a Krispy Kreme in downtown Raleigh. She’d done late night runs in high school, especially when she was stressed about school projects.

“What?” her mother said.

“Cops, donuts, booking, getting out of here faster, Mom,” she joked. “Give me your keys.” 

“Okay, fine,” Liz said grumpily. She gave Darcy her keys as Tom picked up. “I’m waiting to get them out--”

“I’ll be back!” Darcy called. It was a relief to leave the station, she thought, pushing the door open to a burst of cool air. Darcy checked her phone. The Krispy Kreme was less than two miles away. Normally, she would walk, but her mom would have a cow. She sighed and made an executive decision: she’d drive, if only to keep the donuts warmer. That meant a trek back to the parking deck, a conversation with the bundled up attendant, and a drive to nearby Person Street. Darcy turned up carols and hummed along as she waited in line. Her ring glinted in the light, catching her eye and making her think about the situation she was in. It was relaxing to be alone, but she missed Brock. She checked her phone, then swore. She’d missed five texts and three messages from Brock. He’d used all caps. She dialed and he finally answered. “Hi!” Darcy said, attempting to be normal and not sound like a weirdo. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“I’m buying donuts for cops,” Darcy said, unable to repress her giggles. “This is what my life is now. We’re trying to accelerate the girls’ release with Krispy Kreme. I really miss you and sane people Christmas. I might even miss your uncle ranting about politics.” She heard Brock take a deep breath.

“I--I love you,” he said. Then his voice changed. “Fallon, stop listening at the door.”

“She’s listening at the door?” Darcy said, mouth forming an o of surprise at the _I love you._ Did he really mean it? Or was he just pretending because Fal was listening?

“I’ve shut myself in the bathroom. Some of the relatives showed up while I was trying to get a flight--” Brock said. His voice was grumpy now.

“You’re going back to DC?”

“No,” he said. “I’m coming to Raleigh. Sweetheart, I wanted to talk to you. We need to talk.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said, feeling nervous. She was careful as she followed the car ahead of her in the drive-thru line. She didn’t want to have an accident because she was distracted by Brock. “Is there a problem at home? With your family, I mean?”

“No,” he said. “We just all want you back here with us.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She lowered her voice. “Really? You mean that?”

“Fuck yes. I can’t live without you,” he said intensely. That made her giggle.

“That’s not dramatic at all, Brock Rumlow,” Darcy said, feeling a kind of sweet relief. Obviously, he’d still want to pretend when they got back to DC. She wouldn’t have to give him up--not yet, anyway. That felt good.

“I mean it,” he said. “I called Romanoff and she’s working on getting me to you.”

“That would be wonderful,” Darcy said honestly. “I don’t--” she began, then took a deep breath, “I don’t want to give you up yet. I like being engaged,” she admitted. The person behind her honked. The line had moved up. “Shit. Someone’s jonesing for donuts behind me,” she added.

“I, uh, like being engaged, too,” he said quietly. “More than I thought I would.”

“Good,” Darcy said, secretly pleased. “Hold on, I’m at the window.” She set her phone down to take multiple boxes from the drive-thru. “Thank you so much,” Darcy said. When she got back to the phone, she could hear Brock talking to someone.

“Stop busting my balls--” he was complaining.

“Honey?” Darcy said. She’d pulled into a parking space to talk to him. “You okay?”

“Hi,” he said, sounding immediately warmer. “I’m just arguing with these assholes--”

“Go back and hide in the bathroom!” someone called. Darcy wasn’t sure who it was. Was that Fallon? She heard him shut a door.

“I just wanted to--I’m going to be there in a few hours, okay? Romanoff just texted me,” Brock said. “What’s your mom’s address again?”

“It’ll be today?” Darcy said. She told him the address, feeling herself smile widely. She felt stupidly happy. “I’m so happy you’re coming,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to impose--”

“You’re not,” he said quickly. “You’re not.” Her phone beeped in her ear.

“Hold on,” Darcy said. She looked at the screen. “My mom is texting, she’s worried I’ve left her there,” Darcy joked.

“You’ve gotta go,” he said, sighing.

“But we’ll be together tonight?” Darcy asked. She was thrilled by idea of getting to share a bed with him. She’d missed the sex, obviously, but it was just nice to be able to talk to him about her day. She couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of her voice.

“Yeah,” he said. “Romanoff’ll come through.” He inhaled deeply. “Love you,” he whispered.

“Love you, too,” Darcy said, enjoying the syllables in her mouth. 

“Where have you been?” her mother asked, when Darcy pulled up at the police station. She was passing the donuts through the window. This wasn’t an actual parking space. She’d told Liz to wait for her outside.

“I was talking to Brock,” Darcy said. “He’s flying down as soon as he can.”

“Why?” her mother said, holding the stack of boxes and frowning. Darcy huffed.

“Because he loves me, Grinch!” she shot back. Even if it wasn’t true, her mom ought to think so, she decided.

“Oh,” her mother said. “Of course. I didn’t mean it like that--I’m just stressed.”

“I know,” Darcy said, cracking up. “You’ve been a grumpy beeyotch. Take these donuts and eat one,” she ordered. “I’m going to park the car and schlepp back from the parking deck, okay? Don’t yell at a cop, they have guns.”

“Okay,” her mother said. “Bossy.”

“Yes, I am,” Darcy announced proudly, before she rolled up the window. She drove back to the parking deck feeling irrationally happy. She’d get to see Brock in a few hours. Probably. Natasha would come through, right? In the meantime, she needed to get through this day. She could do it. She kept repeating that to herself as she walked back to the station. Her mother was grimly eating donuts on the bench. “Did you give them to the desk person?” Darcy asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “They’ll be out in thirty minutes.”

“Excellent,” Darcy said. It took more like an hour and a half. They waited until Keri and Kelly were released, looking miserable and tired. They were already glaring at each other.

“Don’t,” Liz ordered, pointing a finger at them. “Do you know how stressful this is for your father? How bad it is for his heart?”

“Yes,” the girls said together. Darcy made faces behind her mother at a passing cop, who was grinning. “Sorry,” they echoed.

“Not to mention his bank account,” Liz muttered. “He’s on Medicare! Do you realize what he has to pay for his supplemental policy?”

“No,” Keri admitted.

“Medicare only covers eighty percent, right?” Darcy said. She’d seen the commercial with the pizza slices. “Why don’t I go get the car while you make sure your stuff’s in order?” she said. The cops had given them little bags. Darcy left them in the lobby. By the time she got back, the sniping had commenced. Darcy could tell as they walked towards the car. She was idling in a no-parking zone and they were climbing into the car when her mother started to scold.

“Just shut up,” Liz groused. “I’m so sick of the both of you!” That was unlike her. Keri and Kelly stared.

“Whoops,” Darcy said to herself, as Keri started to actually sob in the backseat. 

“Just drop us off at our mom’s,” Kelly said, trying to comfort her sister. Darcy followed the GPS directions as both women cried and her mother sat in icy silence. When they finally got to the house, Kelly got out of the car without a word. Keri was more declarative than her sister.

“Thanks for ruining Christmas!” she yelled, slamming the door.

“I’m going to pay for that,” Liz said, sighing.

“How?” Darcy said, gobsmacked.

“They’ll get Tom all worked up,” her mother said grimly. “God, I need a donut.”

“They took the last box,” Darcy said. Kelly had snatched it.

“Those bitches,” her mother said, shaking her head.

“You want to go home or back to the hospital?” Darcy said. “We can get you something on the way?”

“The hospital,” her mother said, sounding like she was barely holding herself together. Darcy thought she was going to make it--her mom hated to cry in front of people--but she started to cry on the Beltline. 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Darcy said. She didn’t know what to do, except mention the tissues in the glove box. They were going sixty. 

“I’ll be fine,” her mother said, blowing her nose. “It’s just a mess.” She honked into the tissue again. 

“Messy bitches,” Darcy agreed. That made Liz laugh. Darcy was able to get her to brighten up on the way to the hospital, thankfully. When she dropped Liz off, her mother seemed almost normal. You’d think her red nose was the cold. “I love you, call me if you need anything!” Darcy called. She needed a bit of a break--luckily she had the excuse of needing to pick Brock up from the airport. They hadn’t discussed it, but her mom didn’t know that.

Darcy puttered around her mom’s house, letting out Charlie and Hershey, as it got dark. It wasn’t vain if she changed her clothes and freshened up, right? It gave her something to do. She was waiting for a call from Brock to pick him up at RDU, but she got photos from Jane instead. “Aunt Jane sent us dress photos!” she told the dogs in a happy voice. “Doesn’t she look pretty?” Hershey wagged his tall. Darcy looked at Charlie’s serious face. “Do you think hair up or down? That’s what she wants to know?” she asked the dogs. Hershey looked excited. “I think down. It’s more beachy cas,” she added, pronouncing the abbreviation for casual as jokily as possible. She called Jane back and they talked about her hair and makeup for fifteen minutes. 

“I like it down, too,” Jane decided, after extensive debate.

“Just don’t forget sunscreen or you’ll burn,” Darcy warned. “Where’s Jack?”

“Two of his buddies took him out for a beer,” Jane said. “But I told them I wanted him returned in the shape he left.”

“Did you scare ‘em?” Darcy asked. “I’m very proud, Janeybug. And happy for you.”

“You’re happy I can scare Australians?” Jane asked, clearly teasing. She was glowing in all the photos. Darcy thought she’d probably come back married and pregnant.

“Phhfft,” Darcy said. “I always knew you could--hold on, Brock is beeping in and he needs me to pick him up at the airport. Probably.” 

“Okay. Love you!” Jane said, ending the call.

“Hello?” Darcy said happily. 

“I’m here,” Brock said.

“You’re at the airport?” Darcy said, standing up. 

“No, I’m here,” he said, sounding warm. “Come outside.” She went to the window. She didn’t see a car in the driveway.

“Okay,” Darcy said, shooing the dogs away from the door and going out, keys in hand. 

“Just wait,” Brock said, before he ended the call. Where was he, she wondered?

She was standing on the front lawn--brown with patches of lingering ice and snow--when she heard a noise. There was no traffic on the street. That was when she looked up, realizing the noise was a plane or a helicopter. Something was drifting down from the sky. “What is that?” she said aloud. That was when she realized it was Brock. Attached to...a parachute? “Oh my God!” she said.

“Hi,” he called down. 

“You jumped out of a plane?” 

“They were headed to Ecuador, I just caught a ride,” he said, smiling. His feet were still several feet from the ground. “Everyone says hi.”

“Hi,” she said, feeling giddy, as he landed silently. She ran to hug him. 

“Hi,” he repeated. They were kissing on the lawn when she realized it was cold.

“We should probably go in,” Darcy said, smiling. She made to lead him inside, but felt a tug on her arm. Darcy looked back. Brock had sunk to one knee. “What are you doing? It’s cold!" she said.

“I’m proposing for real this time,” Brock said. “Will you marry me? I want to be married to you for real.” For a moment, Darcy went absolutely still. The air was so cold, she could see his breath. Darcy was stunned. Brock was watching her. She looked at the expression on his face. He looked soft--hopeful. He was hopeful, she realized. He wanted her to say yes. Then she beamed at him.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He stood quickly, pulling her closer. Her heart was racing.

“Yes. I want it, too,” she said, nuzzling him. “More than anything.” She introduced him to the dogs before they fell into bed together. The foreplay was slow and playful. She kept catching herself laughing. He kept beaming at her. “I can’t believe you’re asking me,” she whispered in the dark. She ran her hands over his chest. Everything felt not quite real. She'd missed this, the warmth of his body, the throbbing heat between her legs whenever he was near.

“I can’t believe it took me this fucking long,” he cracked. That made her laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” he grumbled, leaning over to kiss her again. “Merry Christmas,” he said. They shifted and he pushed into her gently. 

“Oh,” Darcy sighed. He started to move more forcefully in response to her voice. They’d gotten a little noisy when the door opened. 

“Shit,” Brock said, alert on top of her.

“That’s the dog, don’t shoot Charlie,” Darcy scolded. The little dog was studying them from the doorway, looking perplexed.

“Oh,” Brock said. Then he paused. "My gun's in my pants," he added. Charlie turned away and disappeared. Darcy could hear him as he padded down the hallway. "What was that about?"

“We made too much noise,” Darcy said, giggling. A moment later, Hershey stuck his head in, trotted over happily, and deposited a tennis ball in the bed. His tail thumped happily against Darcy’s old dresser. 

“What do I do?” Brock said.

“Throwing it will probably only encourage him,” Darcy admitted, squeezing Brock's hips with her thighs. At the word throw, Hershey’s tail circled more enthusiastically.

“He knows what you said,” Brock said slowly. “How does he know?”

They stumbled downstairs a few hours later, yawning and kissing. Darcy knew she needed to be productive and call her mom at the hospital, but she was enjoying making out with Brock. A very naked Brock. She’d stolen his tactical shirt and turned on Christmas music. “Hey,” she heard him say, as she scooped coffee into the filter. She realized Hershey was sniffing at him.

“Sorry, he gooses,” she said.

“Stuck his nose in my ass,” Brock said, laughing. “His damn nose is cold. You need half and half?” 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “But kiss me first.” Neither of them heard the key in the door. Darcy was startled when her mother shrieked from somewhere behind her and whirled around. “Mom!” she said. “How did you get home?”

“Jenna from work gave me a ride. I thought you’d be sleeping. There is a naked man in my kitchen,” Liz said.

“This is Brock,” Darcy said. She looked back. He was holding the half and half over his crotch.

“It’s nice to, uh, meet you?” Brock said slowly. 

“We’re engaged,” Darcy said.

“I know that,” her mother said. “But why is he naked near my spatulas?” The spatulas were on the counter.

“We’ll go upstairs,” Darcy said, taking his free hand. He handed Liz the half and half as they left the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Brock said. They were part of the way up the stairs when Darcy heard the sound.

“Oh good,” she said, relieved.

“Is she crying or laughing?” Brock asked, expression worried.

“Laughing. She’s going to love telling everyone this story when she’s in a better mood,” Darcy said. “Which is good. She needs to laugh. Where did we leave your pants last night?”

  
  
  
  
-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a great time writing this! Felt right to end it now and have a little Christmas in July. Thank you all for your comments, kudos, and continued readership! You're the best!


End file.
